


price: two hearts and a leg

by innersanctuaries



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff and Humor, Homophobic Language, M/M, Minor Character Death, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Slow Burn, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Soulmates, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innersanctuaries/pseuds/innersanctuaries
Summary: It wasn’t like it started immediately.Eddie didn’t come out of the womb with words appearing on him at random. He didn’t go through pre-school or kindergarten with scribbles and crudely written letters covering his hands. No, it wasn’t like it started immediately, it was completely out of the blue when it did.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 138
Kudos: 280





	1. Pens and Paper

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reupload! I got super upset and anxious the other day and took this down due to personal reasons, but it's baaaaaack!
> 
> I have winter classes so updates will be slow, like, every two weeks slow, but I have two chapters to post today to make up for taking this bad boy down. Hopefully you guys can forgive me!
> 
> Bold is Eddie, italics is Richie 
> 
> Song inspo is War of Hearts by Ruelle

It wasn’t like it started immediately.

Eddie didn’t come out of the womb with words appearing on him at random. He didn’t go through pre-school or kindergarten with scribbles and crudely written letters covering his hands. No, it wasn’t like it started immediately, it was completely out of the blue when it did. 

Ironically enough, what showed up on him for the very first time was written in blue ink. The teacher was certainly surprised and somewhat distressed, knowing how hysterical Sonia Kaspbrak would get if she were to see it. Eddie never wrote on himself, in fact, he flat out refused to for fear of dying a slow and terrible death due to ink poisoning. At least, that’s what his mommy said would happen. 

_ i will not write on myself i will not write on myself i wi _

__ It kept going, wrapping its way around his forearm like a tattoo. Needless to say, he was very confused, as Eddie didn’t even own a blue pen. His mommy said they were dangerous and he could stab himself with them, and preferred that he use an equally as sharp pencil. His mommy sometimes said very confusing things. 

In the end, he got detention for not wiping it off of his arm. The problem was that no matter how hard he scrubbed, the words wouldn’t come off. The ink stayed just as vibrant and bright blue as it was before he scrubbed his arm red and raw. He tried to show the teacher, but she gave him even more detention for lying even though he wasn’t a liar.

The day ended with the teacher getting yelled at and him getting fussed over by his mommy. He hated it when she did that, but she loved him and just wanted him to be safe, right? At night, Bill snuck in through his window and crawled into bed next to him, giving Eddie the hug he hadn’t even known he needed

“It’s d-d-dumb that she’s m-mad about this.”

“Well, I could have  _ died _ ,” Eddie whispered, wide eyed and terrified. “From  _ ink poisoning.” _

“I d-don’t think th-that’s how it works.”

“Does too!”

“D-does not!”

They heard shuffling downstairs and froze, silent as mice. A petty argument would never be worth getting caught sneaking into each other’s houses, even if they did live right next to each other. All it took was a quick hop from one window to the other and they were in the other’s room, but their parents didn’t need to know that. 

“D-did it really just appear?”

“Yes!” He said, too loudly. Bill shushed him, pressing a finger to his lips. “It did just appear. I don’t even have a blue pen!”

“M-maybe someone else w-wrote it on you,” Bill looked just as confused as Eddie felt. “I d-don’t know, Eds.”

“If someone else wrote it, then why isn’t it coming off?”

“I have n-no idea.”

“Do you believe me?”

Much to his relief, Bill nodded. “It s-sounds weird, b-but you wouldn’t lie to me.”

Gently knocking their foreheads together, Bill nudged Eddie aside and stole his half of the covers before settling in for bed. It was a sleepover kind of night, and they both knew it. 

As he fell asleep next to his best friend, he forgot all about the words. Who cared as long as he had Bill?

__________

Eddie had forgotten all about the writing. It had been years ago, and the first grade seemed like such a long time ago. Apparently, it was just as irritating and confusing as it had been back then now that he was in the fourth grade. 

This time, he was thankfully the only one that noticed it. 

It wasn’t so much writing as it was a drawing. It looked massive on his tiny wrist, which sent him into a panic. His mom was going to lose her shit. There was a watch, the band thick and surprisingly detailed. Eddie couldn’t deny that it was a really good drawing, the colors and all. Whoever or whatever was responsible for it was really good at what they did. 

He didn’t have a problem with the drawing itself, but he did have a big problem with the fact that it was drawn on  _ him _ . This time around, he didn’t bother scrubbing his wrist ‘til it was red and raw. He had a feeling that the damn thing wouldn’t come off even if he tried. Eddie thanked every god there may or may not be that it was cold enough for long sleeves. He just hoped they were long enough to hide the drawing from his mom.

The entire day consisted of him sneaking glances at his wrist, not sure if he should be annoyed or amazed by the drawing. It wasn’t the first or the last time that he’d resent the fact that he didn’t have a phone, because damn did he want to take a picture of it. Before he went home, Eddie snuck into the photo lab and snapped a few photographs of his wrist to show Bill in case it wasn’t there by the time he got back to his house. 

He was completely right. By the time he launched himself into Bill’s bedroom through the window, it was gone. He was suddenly very glad he’d had the forethought to take pictures of it. Eddie sprinted out of Bill’s room to find him, running into him the moment he made it out of the room. Though he’d been knocked on his ass, he still dug around in his pockets for the pictures and grinned like an idiot.

“Billlookanotherdrawingshoweduponmywristand-”

“I have n-no idea what you’re s-s-saying, slow down.”

“Something else showed up on me, it was a cool thing on my wrist! I got some pictures because it’s gone now but look, isn’t it fucking cool?”

“You sh-shouldn’t say that word,” Bill said, making grabby hands at the pictures. “Lemme see.”

“It’s not like my mom will get mad, she can’t hear me right now.”

“Yeah, but my parents can,” Bill raised his eyebrows when he saw the photo. “H-holy shit, Eddie. Are you sure y-you didn’t draw that?”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie lifted his sleeves to show blank skin. “See? Nothing. If I drew that, I would’ve kept it to show you.”

“Th-that’s true. Also really weird.”

“I know! What do you think is doing it?”

“I have no idea,” Throwing himself onto his bed, Bill patted the space next to him. “B-but my mom said you can stay over tonight, s-so that’s cool.”

“Hell yeah! Wanna go get snacks for it at my house? We gotta be quiet so my mommy doesn’t hear but-”

“Hell y-yes. Let’s go.”

So they did, creeping into Eddie’s house through his window and tiptoeing down the stairs, quiet as mice. Stealing as many sweet snacks as they could carry, they hopped back over to Bill’s room. They would feast like kings that night as all thoughts of the watch disappeared from Eddie’s mind. 

__________

He was in the seventh grade when a girl gave him her number. 

Eddie didn’t mind it much, but he did mind the fact that she completely ignored his open notebook with a completely blank page and decided to scrawl her number on the back of his hand instead. He’d frowned as she winked and sashayed away.

See, Gina was a perfectly nice girl, and he would have been more than excited to text or call her under any other circumstances. The problem with the situation was very simple: Eddie didn’t think he liked girls. 

Not many girls flirted with him, a short and gawky little kid whose voice still hadn’t dropped. When they did, it was nice, but he just couldn’t bring himself to feel anything for them. Eddie could appreciate a pretty girl just as much as the next guy, he wasn’t blind. He just didn’t find them attractive romantically. 

Boys, however, were a totally different story. 

__ People had always told him about the butterflies you got in your stomach when you had a crush. They’d told him about how your face would get hot and you’d feel kinda like you wanted to throw up whenever they talked to you  _ (in a good way, though),  _ how your throat closed up and your voice wouldn’t work. That’s what everyone had always told Eddie about, and how it would always happen with girls.

But him? For him it was the boys. He never told anyone, and he sure as hell would never act on it, but he only ever had feelings for boys. The butterflies only showed up when he talked to a pretty boy, all cracking voices, crooked grins, and roughhousing. His heart only ever beat out of his chest when a cute boy looked his way, smiling widely at him. That was when Eddie would instantly turn into a puddle of mush. 

So yeah, Eddie probably didn’t like girls. Just because he didn’t tell anybody that didn’t mean that he would date one to keep up appearances. Eddie was a lot of things, but he wasn’t cruel. 

He’d all but forgotten it until the end of the school day, running to scrub it off before anyone could see it. Eddie loved him, but he knew that if Bill saw the number, he would never shut the hell up about it. Once Eddie felt that it was gone without a trace, he went back out to go home. 

That should have been the end of it. At least, he thought it would be. Which was why walking into class only to get bitch slapped was a bit surprising.

“If you don’t like me back, you could have just told me instead of making your stupid friend call me!” Gina yelled, voice thick with angry tears. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t make anybody call you!”

“Are you kidding me? Then who’s ____?”

Her mouth moved, but he genuinely couldn’t hear what she’d said. 

“What?”

“You know, ____! Don’t play dumb!”

He still didn’t have a damn clue who or what she was talking about, but he mumbled an apology anyway. Eddie said he had no idea that what’s-his-face had called her, even though he really knew nothing about anything. She huffed and stomped away. 

Within the next few days, half of his grade knew about what had happened, and Eddie was going insane. He couldn’t have cared less that people were mad at him or making fun of him. No, what was driving him crazy was that they kept saying someone’s name, but he couldn’t hear it. 

Eddie could _see_ their lips moving, though they were just distorted enough that he couldn’t read them. He _knew_ they were saying something. But the sound didn’t make it to his ears. His friends knew what it was too, but they couldn’t tell him no matter how hard he tried, which only made him even angrier.

They tried everything. They texted it to him, wrote it down, used sign language, everything! No matter what, he couldn’t make out what it was. 

With each passing day, a black cloud started forming around him, all of this getting to him. It wasn’t long before Bill noticed, figured out exactly what was bothering him.

“I-is this because of Gina?”

“What? No!” Eddie scoffed.

“Eddie.” 

“...Fine, it’s kinda about that.”

“Kinda?”

“Well,” He hadn’t really told anyone about just how badly this was affecting him, and he wasn’t sure how Bill would react. “She said she knew his name, and everyone else knows it too, right?”

“Y-yeah, it’s ____, right?”

“That’s it! That’s it right there!” Bill had never looked more confused than he did at that moment. “You said his name, but I couldn’t hear it. I can see your lips move, but I can’t hear it!”

“What the hell are y-you talking about?”

“I can’t hear his name, Bill! I don’t know what it is. I don’t even know who they’re fucking talking about! I didn’t send anyone to talk to her!”

“I kn-know that you didn’t send anyone, b-but you seriously can’t hear his name?”

Eddie shook his head no, eliciting a confused frown from Bill. “W-well, that’s weird.”

“I know! What do I do?”

“How about w-we go watch B-Batman?”

Just like they did every time something like this happened, they put it on the back burner and did something ten times more important. Batman was important and took precedence over absolutely everything else _. _ Excitedly talking over the television with his best friend about their show, Eddie forgot about the phone number and silent speaking. 

__________

_ Hello? _

It was just one word, small and simple and written in fluorescent pink glitter ink and handwriting he didn’t know. By his junior year, Eddie had completely forgotten all about everything that had happened when he was younger, everything that had to do with this stupid goddamn problem that kept popping back up out of the blue. 

Eddie looked around him, as if someone would pop up behind him and yell  _ “Surprise!” _ , as if he wasn’t at home alone. He’d been homeschooled since the eighth grade, and he still sometimes felt like there was someone there with him. It had never been a bad feeling, not one that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. In fact, it was almost comforting and was one of the very few things that kept him from going insane. 

The only other thing was Bill, who also happened to be at school right now. Eddie didn’t get to see him until later, at track practice. Dual enrollment was good for one thing and one thing only, and that was track. His mom would come home from work and honk at him to come out, and he would run to the car, ready to go do the one thing that made him happiest. Run. 

Eddie would run and run and run, all the way until his muscles were cramping and his lungs were screaming. He would run from his suffocating mother, from his prison named home, from all of his problems, and he’d love every second of it. Running gave him a high that was so wonderful for him to chase, and the only one his mom would allow.

He would never tell anyone, but it was also the only time he was allowed to  _ feel _ . His mom kept him in this protective bubble, one where he wasn’t allowed to feel a drop of pain. He’d never broken a bone, and any bruise that bloomed on his skin was greeted by a shriek and crying. Even a papercut made his mother hysterical. He felt like a glass figurine, being smothered by an overly careful owner. So, he welcomed the burning lungs, the aches and pains in his legs. Eddie loved it more than a little, and he knew it may be unhealthy and a bit insane, but he couldn’t help it. 

He shook thoughts of running and of Bill from his mind, remembering the matter at hand. Quite literally too, the word was written on his left hand. 

_ Hello? _

It was a question he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer, yet here he was, already pulling out and uncapping his favorite blue pen. Eddie had never been a huge fan of writing on himself, but in this case, his curiosity got the best of him. 

**Hello?**

There. It hadn’t been that difficult. All he’d done was write five measly letters onto his arm, and he was fine. Curiosity worked wonders, and apparently it worked better for him than it did with most. Still, he didn’t expect an immediate response, or any response at all, so he pulled his history notebook out and began to work. 

The moment he put his pen to paper, he dropped it.

_ holy shit no way _

_ is this an actual person or am i just having a really fucking weird dream _

_ this is so fucking weird _

Words were appearing on his arm. He could see them appear as they were being written, and it was freaking him the hell out. Eddie had no idea what was going on, and he really wasn’t sure if he wanted to. All he knew was that there was someone writing on him and he didn’t know who it was. 

**Is this a ghost or something?**

**Am I being haunted?**

_ what no why would i be a ghost dude _

_ wait are you even a guy _

_ what are you i still have no idea what you are _

**Slow down, I can’t write as quickly as you can**

_ no shit you cant youre using punctuation and shit  _

__ **Fuck off, at least I don’t look illiterate.**

_ at least i can write fast _

__ That was it. Eddie was going to tear his own arm off. He had no idea who this was, and he definitely still had no idea how this was happening. What he did know is that this thing that was writing him was incredibly fucking annoying. 

**Whatever. Who the fuck are you?**

_ oh im ___ _

__ “You’re fucking kidding me,” Eddie said into the empty house. This was ridiculous. There was no damn way this was the same person. There was  _ no way  _ this was the same person that had called Gina all those years ago. 

**I can’t see your fucking name, it’s just a smudge**

_ weird. whats yours?? _

__ **Eddie Kaspbrak.**

_ i see a smudge too _

_ thats weird as hell _

_ not as weird as talking to somebody i dont know by writing on my arm but still pretty weird _

_ what even is this who are you _

__ **You’re the one who started the conversation!**

_ well its not my fault that i got a bunch of dicks drawn on my hand the other day _

_ i was curious _

__ Eddie groaned out loud. Bill. Start up the sirens, because he was about to kill Bill for that. 

**Sorry, my friend drew on me while I was asleep**

_ No problem it’s not like i had dicks show up on my arm in the middle of breakfast with my family or anything _

Wincing, Eddie realized he had absolutely no answer to that, unless he wanted to apologize again. He figured he’d talked to his arm enough for the day and decided to get ready for track practice. Thanking mother nature for the cold January day, he pulled on a long sleeved shirt and hoped whoever was writing the messages would kindly fuck off.

There was a distinct feeling he got when something was being written on him. It wasn’t an itch or he’d go insane, but it was the tiniest bit of pressure that could almost be described as a tickle. It wouldn’t stop the entire time he was running, and by the end of practice, he was ready to lop his own arm off. 

“Bill, I’m going to lose my fucking shit,” Eddie yelled the moment he got home and hopped into his best friend’s room. “Look at this.  _ Look  _ at this.” He’d exchanged his long sleeved shirt for a short one and immediately regretted it. 

“L-look at whaaaaaaat...the f-f-fuck,” Bill trailed off, eyes going wide. “Your arm is wr-writing on itself.”

“Yes, and whoever is doing it is a fucking  _ dipshit  _ and I hate them.”

_ dont feel bad about it though they didnt laugh but i did _

_ cereal actually shot out of my nose _

_ not just the milk either the cereal itself went with it too _

_ it hurt but it was so worth it _

_ hey _

_ hey _

_ hey _

_ are you there _

_ pay attention to me _

_ come back i like having a pen pal _

_ i wonder if youd be able to see stuff i paint on here _

_ im an artist _

_ at least i try to be  _

_ i really like to paint  _

_ sometimes i paint on myself the teachers and my family hate it but my sister likes it so i do it anyway  _

_ what would you do if i drew a really big detailed dick on your chest  _

_ my chest _

_ whatever _

_ wouldnt that be funny _

“Bill, give me a pen,” Eddie bit out.

“Eddie, it’s writing on y-you. B-by itself. How…how?”

“Just give me a pen, for the love of fuck.”

“Here.”

**If you ever do that I will find you and I will fucking gouge your eyes out, do you understand?**

_ hey youre back! _

__ **You’re worse than a clingy girlfriend. I’m running out of room on my arm, dipshit.**

_ ill just go scrub my arm then _

__ **Whatever.**

“Eddie,” Bill caught his attention again, sounding very distressed. “Explain!”

“I don’t know how to!” Eddie said, voice high and equally as distressed. “I was doing my homework and then there was this thing asking ‘hello?’ and I answered and now there’s this- this  _ thing _ answering me and-”

“Okay, s-stop explaining. D-Do you think this has t-to do with that stuff when y-you were younger?”

“...maybe.”

“P-Probably, right?”

Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair and buried his face in his hands. “Yeah, probably. But what is it?” At feeling the pressure on his arm again, he groaned loudly and nearly tore his sleeve off. 

_ better now? _

**It’d be better if you stopped talking to me**

_ this is fun and the fact that you hate it only makes it better _

_ you should know that the last guy that was a dick to me got superglue in his chapstick _

Bill snorted, earning himself a glare from Eddie. “What? It’s f-f-funny.”

**What the hell did he do to piss you off?**

_ he punched my friend and called him a fag _

__ **Gross. I hope his lips came off.**

_ oh hell yeah the top layer of skin came off and everything _

_ he was crying and shit, it was hilarious _

_ hes this huge bully or whatever and i fucked his shit up _

_ got expelled though _

**That’s dumb as hell. He deserved it!**

Looking up, Bill had migrated to his desk and was doing his homework as Eddie chatted with...whoever the fuck was on his arm. Eddie was curious. He was curious about this guy’s life, despite the fact that he had no clue who he was, or if this was even safe. For all he knew, he really  _ was _ being haunted by some clingy asshole ghost who didn’t know what capitalization and punctuation were.

_ you never answered when i asked if you were a guy or not _

_ pinky swear im not hitting on you _

__ **I’m a boy. You?**

_ also a boy _

_ also very gay _

__ **Also very gay here too**

_ oh sweet  _

There wasn’t enough room on his arm to continue the conversation unless he made an effort to go wash his arm off and keep going. Right there, Eddie had the choice to ditch. He could wash his arm and go on his merry way, ignoring whoever this was until he stopped writing him. He really could. 

But he was curious. 

This guy was weird, but he’d managed to make Eddie laugh even if he was annoying as hell. He didn’t get to laugh much anymore. 

He’d never felt at home when he was at home, it felt more like a jail than anything. He wasn’t sure he could remember a time when it had felt like anything but, yet couldn’t think of a thing. 

Now that they were in high school, Bill had more friends than just Eddie. He tried not to be jealous, but there was always that little green monster hollowing out a space in his chest and making itself right at home. Bill had his friends, and Eddie had his room. He could make friends on the track team, but he just couldn’t seem to connect with any of them. Bill brought some of his friends by sometimes, and Eddie knew them well enough, but he didn’t know how to interact. He supposed that was what happened when you were homeschooled for three years. He didn’t see Bill as often, and that meant more time alone in his own room, in his own house. So yeah, laughing wasn’t a regular occurrence for him anymore. 

Begrudgingly, he stalked over to the bathroom and scrubbed his arm until it was red and raw, yet rid of all his own blue ink, leaving a one-sided conversation on his arm. Soon after, that disappeared as well. Going back to Bill’s room, he sat and considered what he should do next.

“Hey, can I sleep over tonight? I don’t want to go back home,” Eddie said quietly. 

“Y-you know you c-can always sleep here.”

“Thanks, Bill. I love you.”

“L-love you too, Eds.”

With a smile on his face, Eddie crawled into Bill’s bed and uncapped his pen one last time.

**I’m going to sleep**

_ alright ttyl _

__ **Stop using text speak on my damn arm**

_ fine talk to you later _

_ sleep well _

_ what do i even call you _

__ **My name rhymes with a kind of pasta so I guess that would work**

_ hows spaghetti sound _

_ sleep well spaghetti _

__ **You too.**

**I’ll talk to you tomorrow**

_ :D _

Eddie hoped he wouldn’t regret this.


	2. Nicknames and Noodles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie didn't regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song inspo is still War of Hearts by Ruelle
> 
> Bold is Eddie, italics is Richie, bold italics is Bill, and underlined italics is Richie's sister.

Eddie didn’t regret it.

They’d talked for days, and every day that passed, Eddie got even happier that he hadn’t just stopped writing back. Unsurprisingly, nobody else but Bill had noticed the whole deal. It hadn’t taken long for him to notice, it was hard to miss how much cheerier Eddie had been, bouncing around excitedly all the time. 

“You really like t-t-talking to this guy, huh?”

“What guy?” Eddie played dumb, hoping Bill would stop there.

“Th-the one on your arm,” Furrowing his brow, Bill snorted. “That was a w-weird sentence.”

“Okay, yeah. I do like talking to him, it’s nice.”

“C-can I try?”

“Talking to him?” Eddie hesitated for just a second before handing over the pen and holding out his arm. “Yeah, sure.”

**_is this the guy that got eddie bitch slapped by gina in the seventh grade_ **

_ whoa this isn’t spaghetti _

_ who is this _

**_i’m his best friend_ **

_ cool nice to meet you im ___ _

“No w-way. You weren’t k-kidding about the smudges.”

“No shit I wasn’t. Why the fuck would I lie about that?”

_ is this about that girl i called holy shit _

_ he really got slapped for it?  _

**_yeah_ **

_ sorry spaghetti i was curious _

__ “Ugh, why did you tell him that? Now he feels bad!”

“This is so w-weird. I’m t-talking to your arm.”

“You look way too happy about this.”

“Well it’s cool!” Rereading the previous message, Bill laughed. “He calls you Spaghetti _?” _

“Shut up. I told him my name rhymes with a type of pasta and he just decided on Spaghetti. I guess it stuck.”

“I l-like him already,” Fiddling with the pen, a lightbulb appeared above Bill’s head. “Hey, I wonder if he can see my name!”

“I dunno, try it out.”

**_my name is Bill Denbrough, can you see that?_ **

There was a pause. A really long pause. Both of them sat there, waiting for a response, but to no avail. With each minute that went by, Bill got increasingly more impatient and fidgety, while Eddie became slightly concerned. His buddy didn’t usually drop off the face of the earth like this, and now every bad thing that could have happened to him was flashing through Eddie’s mind with no way to turn it off. 

They’d both just about given up when Eddie felt that little tickle again. Never before had a tickle made him feel as much relief as he’d felt right then.

“Bill, he’s back.”

“Awesome!”

_ sorry i had to go do something _

_ i cant see your name either _

_ but i can tell who’s who based on the writing _

_ nice to meet you _

**_you too_ **

_ youre great and all but give spaghetti his arm back i want to talk to him  _

**_sounds good_ **

“Aw, he w-wants to talk t-to you! He wants his S-spaghetti back!”

“Shut up,” He wet a tissue and scrubbed away Bill’s conversation, making grabby hands at the pen with his free hand. “Give it.”

“What do you even call him?” Bill asked, handing over the pen.

“What do you mean?” 

“He c-c-calls you Spaghetti, what do you call him?”

“Uh, nothing I guess.”

“Th-that’s dumb as hell. Give him a nickname, d-dumbass.”

Frowning, Eddie stuck his tongue out at him and went back to looking at his now empty arm. 

**I just realized that I don’t really have a name for you**

_ call me chee _

__ **What?**

_ its the last part of my name _

Chee. He thought it over, mouthing the word and feeling how it rolled off his tongue. Eddie liked it, he liked it a lot.

**Alright, Chee**

_ i like that a lot damn _

_ i love pet names _

_ your friend is cool i like him too _

**Thanks, that’s why he’s my friend**

_ im detecting traces of sarcasm _

**Ya think?**

_ youre so mean to me spaghetti _

_ hey what do you look like _

__ He stopped, frowning. “Hey Bill, what do I look like?”

“Wh-why? Is he asking?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to answer.”

“Let me,” He rolled over onto his stomach and snatched the pen out of Eddie’s hand. 

**_he’s white and has curly brown hair and really pretty brown eyes. he’s like 5’5” right now because he hasn’t hit his growth spurt but that doesn’t stop him from having a really big personality. he’s really pretty for a boy and i think you’d think he’s cute_ **

_ cute cute cute _

“What the hell do you mean, cute? I am  _ not _ cute!”

“You k-k-kinda are.”

_ so youre a midget!!!!!!!! _

“Why’d you have to tell him about my height?” Eddie groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re the worst.”

“I think you mean the b-best.”

**I just haven’t hit my growth spurt**

_ well im 5’10 ;) _

__ “I hate him.”

“I l-like him,” Bill snickered. “He makes you laugh m-m-more than you’ve l-laughed in a while.”

“He also makes me more homicidal than I’ve been in a while.”

“Th-that too.” 

**So wait, what do you look like?**

_ dunno let me go ask my sister _

__ **You have a sister?**

_ i literally just said i did  _

_ he looks like a dorky dumbass with curly hair and blue eyes and glasses and he’s way too tall for his own good but he’s still growing which is terrible _

_ he’s cute too i think you’d like him. he never shuts the fuck up about you haha _

Eddie couldn’t get through the message without losing it, and decided to snap a photo of it for future laughs. For some reason, knowing that Chee talked about him made him happy. He was glad to have done that quickly, because Chee scrubbed it off as soon as possible.

_ sorry shes mean to me _

**Cute cute cute**

_ fuck off you pasta headed fiend _

__ **So you’re not cute?**

_ im adorable but you dont need to know that i talk about you _

**Too late**

**Plus it’s cute so shut up**

Bill sat up and looked at the clock before groaning. “C-c’mon, we gotta go to p-p-practice.”

“Already?” He whined. 

“Yep. Let’s go before your m-mom gets crazy.”

“When is she not?”

“Good point.”

**Gotta go, track practice**

_ talk to you later spaghetti _

__ **Later, Chee.**

**__________**

  
  


Their conversations were the highlight of his day, his week, basically all the time. They had to work out a schedule that factored in his track practice, but that was easy enough

from three to five, no conversations were allowed. It would be weird as hell if he were running and writing just started appearing on his arms, especially once the winter months were over and he was back to wearing short sleeves. Eddie said it was because he wanted to be able to pay attention, but in reality, he didn’t want anybody else to know about this. Chee was his little secret, and he desperately wanted to keep it that way. 

They both noticed new things about their way of communication every day. One of which was the fact that when one of them got banged up, the other could briefly see the damage. It’d only last about ten minutes at the most, depending on how bad the injury was, but it’d definitely be noticeable. Eddie was usually on the receiving end of the temporary bruises, what with Chee being as clumsy as he was. Eddie always teased him about being like a baby deer, still not used to walking on his too-long legs. In reality, he was just growing so tall so quickly that as soon as he’d get used to his height, he’d have another growth spurt. 

It was an unfortunate reality, the bruises. Eddie had gone out and bought himself concealer to cover them whenever they’d show up for fear of his mom seeing them and freaking out. It was probably a waste since it took him about ten minutes to perfect the concealer, and by that time the bruises were gone, but he did it anyway. 

Aside from that, everything was fine and dandy. A total dream. Not one bad thing happened, up until the day Bill let out a noise that sounded like a dying animal. 

"Eddie, what the f-f-f-fuck?!” Bill’s eyes went wide and filled with panic. “Ask Chee what h-happened, look at your fucking  _ chest _ .”

“What are you talking about?” Eddie asked, confused.

“Look at your f-f-face!”

He ran to the mirror, only to see half of his face and body covered in massive amounts of bruises. Black, blue, purple, you name it. Eddie dove for his pen and frantically checked his arms, the crudely written message on it only serving to scare him more.

_ Hey spaghetti don’t worry about that _

**What the hell do you mean don’t worry about that? You literally look like you just went one on one with a fucking meat tenderizer!**

The long pause had him pacing, nearly wearing a path into the carpet of Bill’s floor. They’d noticed that the worse the bruise, the longer it took to fade. This one? Twenty minutes had passed and it wasn’t getting any better. A new one materialized on his ribs, this one in the shape of the bottom of someone’s shoe. 

“He’s not answering, Bill. What do I do? What if he’s dead?”

“H-he’s not dead.”

“How do you know?” He asked, silently begging Bill to reassure him that Chee would be okay.

“I just do.” 

An hour passed with almost no new developments. The bruises got darker, but had begun to fade as they always did. Eddie was scared, so scared. He couldn’t lose his friend. He couldn’t. Eddie had no idea what he’d do if he did. How would he explain his mourning?

_ ‘Yeah, I’m losing my shit over my best friend dying. Which one? Oh, just the one I met by writing on my arm. What’s his name? Where does he live? Funny story, I actually have no idea.’ _

That’d go over fantastically, he was completely sure about that. Bill would understand, he knew that much, but the rest of the world would just laugh and brush him off.

“Hey Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“This looks like he got the  _ shit _ beaten out of him.”

“It really d-does, I hope he’s okay,” Walking over and sitting next to Eddie on the bed, Bill pulled him into a warm hug. “You’re gonna be alright, Eds.”

It was four in the morning, and the feeling of that little tickle woke him right the hell up. Shooting up out of bed, he ran right to Bill’s desk and flicked the light on, ignoring Bill’s annoyed groan. His arm was completely empty, and for a second, he was convinced that he’d imagined it. Then he felt it again, on his thigh. Ripping his pajama pants off and throwing them across the room, he sat in the chair and grabbed a pen.

_ im alive _

_ im so sorry ive been in the hospital _

**Oh my god I’ve been so fucking worried are you okay**

_ im sorry i didnt mean to make you worry _

**What happened??**

_ some guys found out im gay and decided they werent okay with it _

_ so, i have two cracked ribs and my left arm is broken _

__ **what the fuck**

**I’m so fucking sorry**

_ i have a fucking bootprint on my chest _

_ this is bullshit everything hurts _

_ i wish i knew your name i cant even say your name in a convo because the miraculous powers that be wont let me  _

_ nurse coming gtg dont message back erase messages _

Quick as lightning, Eddie ran to the bathroom and scrubbed off the pen as well as he could, brow furrowed and worry rolling off him in waves the whole time. Crawling back into bed with Bill, he lay there with the covers off, staring up at the ceiling. 

Eddie didn’t sleep that night. 

__________

_ good morning everything fucking hurts _

Eddie was over the fucking moon when he found a message on his thigh the next morning. He shot up out of bed and grabbed his favorite pen from his bag, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. 

**are you okay**

**seriously like you scared the shit out of me yesterday are you okay**

_ damn no punctuation or proper caps you really are worried _

**No shit, sherlock.**

_ there’s the spaghetti i know and love _

_ im fine just hurting a lot. breathing hurts the worst and they said i got a concussion so my head hurts too _

_ im a little ball of pain right now _

**What can I do?**

_ just keep being your cute little self spaghetti _

“H-h-how’s he doing?” Bill’s sleepy voice rang out in the room. 

“He got beaten up. Two cracked ribs and his left arm is broken, plus a concussion.”

“Jesus c-christ, why?”

“He got beaten up because he’s gay,” Eddie frowned, not sure how Bill would react. He’d never told Bill he was gay, mainly because Derry wasn’t exactly the most accepting town around. In fact, it was relatively homophobic, though there were several brave souls that were out of the closet and proud. He was not one of those people. 

Bill paused for a bit, furrowing his eyebrow, expression slowly morphing into one of rage. It was a look he rarely got, and Eddie braced himself, unsure of what his best friend would say next. “You’re t-t-telling me that he g-got beaten up because h-he’s  _ g-g-g-gay?! _ ”

“Um. Yes?”

“Who the f-f-fuck does th-that?”

“You don’t care that he’s gay?”

“No, w-why would I?”

“Your parents hate gay people. I didn’t know about you."

Eddie knew his best friend well enough to know that Bill looked hurt.  _ Really  _ hurt. “I’m not like them.”

“So you don’t? Hate gay people, you don’t hate gay people?”

Taking in a deep breath, Bill looked down and away from him, mumbling nervously. “Eds, I d-don’t even know w-what I l-l-l-like.”

“I’m gay,” Eddie blurted out, covering his mouth with his hands immediately after. Bill looked up at him, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. 

“R-really?” Eddie nodded, nervous for Bill’s reaction. “How long have you known?”

“Since I was in the seventh grade, I think.”

“Why d-didn’t you t-t-tell me?”

“I thought you wouldn’t wanna be my friend anymore,” Eddie said softly.

Without warning, Bill was out of bed and throwing his arms around Eddie. It said everything they didn’t have to say, every comforting and accepting word they couldn’t form with their sleep addled brains. Realizing that his best friend didn’t care that he was gay, that Bill accepted him, it had him in tears. 

“Th-that’s f-f-fucking stupid, how could I n-not want to b-be your friend?”

“I don’t know, I was just scared. I thought you’d find out and tell my mom and I’d get kicked out or something.”

“I’d n-never do that. I’d die before doing that. P-plus, if she did kick you out I’d j-just make you move over here.”

“I love you, Bill.”

“I love you too,” He replied without stuttering once.

They were both emotional messes and they knew it, but they were emotional messes that weren’t hiding a massive secret anymore. They were emotional messes that were that much closer to each other now. 

__________

Eddie was mother henning Chee to no end, and it was driving the poor guy insane. At Eddie’s request, Chee had managed to transfer schools, keeping himself safe from the people who had just about killed him. 

__ **Are you doing any better today?**

_ yeah I finally got my cast off  _

_ you can actually wear pants now _

**You have to be careful with your arm after you get it off okay?**

**Don’t put a lot of stress on it or anything or you could hurt yourself again**

_ sure mom no problem _

_ do you want me to go do my chores too mom _

_ or do you wanna sit here and make sure widdle old me is okay _

**I’ll break your arm again I swear I will**

Chee was a little shit. But he was a little shit that made Eddie’s heart pound a little faster and his cheeks burn a little brighter, so he couldn’t be too mad at him. Or at all, really. 

__ **Are your ribs feeling okay?**

_ i mean i can laugh without feeling like i’m dying a slow and painful death so i’m pretty sure they’re getting better _

__ **You’re such a smartass**

_ i was being serious that time i swear! _

__ **Suuuuure**

_ youre a dick _

__ **Coming from you, that’s rich**

_ ooh, talk dirty to me and that won’t be the only thing coming from me if you know what i mean ;) _

__ **That’s nasty**

_ you love it _

__ **You wish**

_ denial isn’t just a river in egypt spaghetti _

**Shouldn’t you be at school?**

_ maybe _

__ **Go to class!**

_ i am in class! _

__ **Let me amend that statement**

**Pay attention in class, dumbass**

_ fine  _

_ killjoy _

__ **Enjoy stats ;)**

_ i hate u  _

The responses would stop pretty quickly after that.

As for Eddie, track was amazing, as usual. He ran faster than fast, feet barely touching the ground. He was light as a feather and faster than a speeding bullet. Well, that was Superman, but Eddie sometimes felt like he could keep up with him if he were real. 

One day after practice, he met Bill and their friend Stan out by the bleachers to wait for his mom. He lived for moments like these, moments where he could feel like a normal high schooler with friends in a normal setting. This time though, there was someone else there. A gawky boy with curly hair and lanky limbs he hadn’t completely grown into yet stood next to Bill, letting out a belly laugh. For some reason, Eddie’s heart did a little tap dance in his chest.

“Hey Eddie, th-this is Richie. He’s new here,” Bill said, hugging Eddie with a huge grin as soon as he got there before going back to his conversation with Stan. He always seemed to smile wider and stutter less when he was with Stan, and Eddie wasn’t sure what that meant, but it made him happy. 

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie smiled, putting his hand out to shake Richie’s. 

“Pfft. Get a load of this kid! Sticking his hand out and shit,” Richie guffawed, all while the tips of Eddie’s ears went red. “I haven’t seen you here, what classes are you in?”

“I’m homeschooled. But I’m dual enrolled which means I can still do track and-” Eddie was cut off by the sound of Richie fake snoring. That was it. He was going to fucking kill this kid. “Can you  _ be _ any more of an asshole?”

“I can, but you probably don’t wanna see it or you’d want to kill me.”

“Good thing I already fucking do,” Eddie bit out through clenched teeth. “Just shut the hell up and stay away from me.”

“H-hey Richie, what’s that in your hand?” Bill asked nervously, trying to change the topic. 

“Oh, these?” Richie held up a pair of Simpsons patterned underpants. “These are just boxers that belong to the one and only Henry Bowers.”

“Are you  _ crazy _ ?!” Eddie shrieked as Stan and Bill backed away from Richie. “He’s going to fucking kill you!”

“Only if he finds out who took ‘em.” Richie grinned like the cat that got the cream. “And he won’t, because you’re all such great friends. Well, you don’t even go here, so who are  _ you _ going to tell?”

Now, just about everyone knew what a touchy subject Eddie’s homeschooling was. He’d never wanted to be pulled out of school in the first place, and the day he’d been told he wouldn’t be going anymore was possibly the worst day of his life. So, nobody really breached that topic for fear of earning themselves his wrath. 

However, Richie seemed to simply not give a fuck about his own wellbeing. 

“You think I won’t go and tell him myself?” Eddie scoffed, a manic smile on his face. “I would gladly tell him, just to see your stupid face get pounded into the fucking dirt until you were fucking  _ unrecognizable _ .”

Eddie was screaming by the end of his sentence, he knew that much. He felt lightheaded and he could hear his own heart beating, hands shaking with fury. With one trembling fist, he grabbed Richie by the collar and dragged him close to his face, staring him dead in the eye. “I will stand there and watch, and I’m gonna enjoy every fucking second of it.”

At that point, Richie really did look like he was about to shit his pants. Throwing himself back, he gave Eddie a concerned once over before looking over at Bill. “You said he was angry, but you never mentioned him being fucking feral, Bill.”

“Y-you’re the one that said something s-s-stupid.”

Pursing his lips, Richie turned his head back to Eddie, actual fear in his eyes. Eddie almost felt bad. “Please don’t tell Bowers.”

“I’ll think about it,” Eddie snapped.

As if on cue, they heard an angry yell not too far from them, catching all their attention. Henry fucking Bowers himself was stomping over across the field, making a beeline for Richie, who went white as a sheet. “Oh  _ fuck _ .”

“Tozier!” Henry roared, coming closer and closer. “Did you steal my fucking boxers?”

Richie simply whimpered, dropping the boxers and taking a small step back. “What boxers? I see no boxers here!”

“I’m going to beat your fucking face in, Tozier. You think being new is going to stop me? I’ll drag you by your stupid fucking hair and-”

“It was me, you fucking gremlin,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes and praying this would work. 

Everyone froze, and every eye was on him. A look of horror graced Bill and Stan’s faces, while Richie stared at him in wonder. Henry looked...well, Henry looked like Eddie should start writing out his will. 

“Fucking excuse me?”

“It was me, and if you hit any of us, I’ll call the cops on you and I’ll make sure my mom has your ass expelled, capiche?” 

Henry stood. Henry stared. He looked back and forth from Richie, to Eddie, and finally to his boxers on the floor. Grinding his teeth and growling like a dog, he bent down to get his boxers and glared at them before just walking away, looking more like an angry doberman than anything. 

As soon as he was out of sight, the group let out a collective sigh of relief, with Eddie nearly collapsing from the nerves. 

“I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t fucking believe it,” Eddie breathed, a note of panic in his voice. 

“Didn’t you literally  _ just _ say that you wanted me to get my shit kicked in by him?” Richie asked, very confused and still very scared. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s what you said.”

“I don’t want to get your blood on me, fuckface. Plus, the sound of breaking bones makes me want to puke,” Turning towards the valet line, Eddie gestured at Bill. “You ready to go? I think my mom’s here.”

“Y-yeah. B-bye Stan, bye R-richie.”

Looking back one more time, Eddie threw Richie a scathing look. “Stay the fuck away from me, Tozier. I won’t save your ass a second time.”

Spinning on his heel, Eddie walked to the valet line with his head held high. He hoped that would be the last he saw of Richie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, I'd literally die for them. I saw the headcanon of Eddie calling Richie 'Chee' a few months back and recently saw it in practice and fell in love. So, into the fic it goes, because I had no idea what the fuck else to have Eddie call him.
> 
> I have to take two winter classes, which is essentially a whole fucking semester packed into a month. One of them is an english class, meaning I'm going to have to be writing a lot of shit that is decidedly not this fic. Also meaning that updates will be few and far between. Sorry about that, guys. 
> 
> Next update will be in two to three weeks!


	3. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chee became what was probably his second best friend in the world. Nobody could ever surpass Bill, but he certainly couldn’t help but develop a bond with someone who was essentially attached to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super late, but depression has been kicking my ass right along with school, so I'm really sorry about the lack of an update. Hope y'all like it!

Chee became what was probably his second best friend in the world. Nobody could ever surpass Bill, but he certainly couldn’t help but develop a bond with someone who was essentially attached to him.

They’d gotten to a point where they used markers to write on themselves instead of their favorite pens. It had become apparent very early on in their relationship that pen ink was pretty difficult to be constantly washing off, and once Eddie had rubbed his skin so raw that it almost bled, they resolved to switch to markers. They were significantly easier to wash off so they could continue their conversations. 

They were always together, unsurprisingly. It would be pretty difficult to part with your arm. Or rip off all of your skin. They’d accidentally found that it wasn’t just their arms what writing would appear on, but  _ everywhere _ . If one of them shaved their head, he was pretty sure they’d be able to write on there too. 

If it had been anyone else on the other end, Eddie would have been fine with this development. But it wasn’t just anyone else. It was Chee, and Chee was very dangerous with a pen. 

He took advantage of this newfound discovery about twenty times more than Eddie did. Sometimes he woke up with a huge and way too detailed dick drawn on his chest. Others, he woke up with Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ on his thigh. Both were usually unexpected, but strangely enough, he was beginning to get used to it. 

Eddie was a terrible artist, but he tried to keep up with Chee. He’d ask Eddie for a drawing, no matter how shitty it was. Chee always claimed that he wasn’t that bad, that with practice he definitely had potential. There was no way he’d ever say it, but he was the reason that Eddie went out and bought a set of colored markers, all to mess around. His mom didn’t appreciate the doodles all over the back of his tests too much, but since it was him, she never said a thing. 

To his surprise, he did end up getting better, even if it was slow progress. Chee would ask him for a progress report every so often, even if Eddie had never told him that he’d been practicing in the first place. He was perceptive like that. Chee would give him tips, and Eddie appreciated that more than he’d ever say. 

As for Chee, Eddie became a sort of tutor for him. He wasn’t good at, well, anything. That wasn’t him being mean, it was an exact quote from Chee. It wasn’t something he was all that proud of, and the first time he mentioned it, he’d seemed almost embarrassed to say anything.

_ hey _

_ are you good at science _

Eddie had been a bit confused, unsure about why he was asking. They both knew Chee was a relatively good student, based on how often he whined about the amounts of homework he had to get through. 

**Yeah, how come?**

_ im kind of failing and i need this class so i dont fuck up this school year _

_ id really like to go on to see my senior year yknow _

**Yeah, I totally get that. I’m pretty good at science, what kind do you need help with?**

_ bio _

_ all i know is ‘the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell’ _

_ Other than that im lost _

**Just write out the questions and I’ll help you out. Or if you need me to clear something up for you, I’ll get out my old bio notes.**

_ i think im in love with you thank you so much _

His heart would always skip a beat when he heard that, which was becoming a bit of a problem. Eddie had a hint of a crush on someone he didn’t even know. Well, at least not in person. He knew Chee better than anyone else in his life, as said by Chee himself. Eddie could say the same about himself. Chee knew him better than everyone aside from Bill did. Even then, sometimes he felt like they both knew him in very different ways. So maybe he didn’t have a crush on a stranger, he was just twitterpated over someone he’d never met. 

They’d found was that unless it was the state they lived in, they couldn’t mention anything else about their locations. 

**So where exactly are you?**

_ Like, where do I live? _

_ I’m in ___ maine _

**_I can just see Maine_ **

_ Of fucking course you can. This is pissing me the hell off. How are we supposed to find each other if we ever want to meet each other????? _

That right there was the million dollar question. Neither of them were sure if they would be able to meet each other, not with this shit happening. They didn’t know each other’s names, couldn’t see each other’s locations, and neither could anyone else they were around. There was no chance of them being able to look each other up, not when all they knew about each other was a barebones description of each other and the state they were in.

**Well, I’m in Maine too**

_ sweet so lets just wander around until we find someone else writing on their arm _

__ **Great idea**

_ sarcasm? _

__ **Definitely**

Other than that, they were normal. Eddie helped Chee with science and math, while he helped Eddie with spanish and history. It wasn’t that Eddie wasn’t good at history, but that Chee seemed to know  _ everything  _ about it. Sometimes Eddie was convinced that he was centuries old and had actually been around to see everything the books told them about.

Once the warm weather came, they worked out a schedule that involved one thing and one thing only: No writing on Eddie until track practice was over. There was no way he was going to risk being found out, and he wasn’t quite sure why he was so adamant about it, but he just really wanted to keep Chee to himself. 

They also redeveloped the habit of writing on their legs once the warm weather moved in. It was far too warm to wear pants, and since Eddie already shaved his legs for track, beginning to scrawl out conversations onto his thighs was no problem at all. Chee wasn’t too happy about having to shave his legs again. Then again, he claimed to wear skinny jeans all year long, so it wasn’t like he was in danger of getting caught with silky smooth legs. 

_ shaving your legs is so annoying _

__ **Easier than writing on your arms**

_ true _

_ stop being right its annoying _

__ **Stop being annoying when I’m right**

It had been almost a year since they’d first started talking, leaving both Chee and Eddie in their first semester of their senior year. In Chee’s mind, it was a miracle that he’d made it there at all, and he chalked up that victory to all of Eddie’s tutoring. 

Even when the warm weather had come and gone, they kept writing on their legs. They’d gotten into the habit of it, and it was a lot easier than writing on their arms, so even in the cold Maine weather, Eddie had started walking around in his boxers. Bill didn’t appreciate it too much, though he also couldn’t bring himself to care all that much after all the years they’d spent sleeping in their boxers together. 

It was a miracle that Eddie’s mom hadn’t noticed. He knew she would go absolutely apeshit if she knew, especially because it involved him writing on himself .  _ Especially _ because it involved him talking to a stranger. Thing was, he didn’t really care that Chee was a stranger. They knew almost everything about each other, and the fact that they’d never met didn’t matter one bit to them.

**I’m nervous, Chee**

_ whats up? you okay? _

**Yeah, but my friend’s bringing over a friend and we’re going to have a sleepover but I don’t know how to interact and I feel like I’m going to mess everything up**

_ you wont _

_ youre awesome shut up theyre going to love you _

**I already know him, I think my friend has a cruuuush ;)**

_ ah yes, young love _

_ gotta be careful when you hop over to his window now or you might find them fucking like bunnies _

**Gross**

**If I walked in on that I’d have to just gouge my own fucking eyes out, that’s disgusting**

_ hahahaha _

_ i love how fucking dramatic you are _

__ There was that word again, one that he’d been using over and over and over again lately. Love. It was always  _ I love this  _ or  _ I love that, _ and it was driving Eddie fucking insane. What did it mean? Did it mean anything at all? Why in the sweet fuck did it even matter to him in the first place?

**I gotta go now, so I’ll write you tomorrow**

_ ughhhh what am i gonna do without you for that long _

_ ill die spaghetti im going to die _

_ if you write and get no response its because im dead  _

**Don’t talk like that dumbass, you’re not going to die**

_ aww do you want me to not die _

**Debatable**

**I’ll talk to you tomorrow!!! I gotta go!!!!!**

_ fine fine love you  _

__ Freezing, Eddie stopped and stared down at his leg in wonder. He quietly took out his phone and snapped a picture of the blue ink on his leg, smiling softly the whole time. 

**Love you too, idiot**

_ :D! _

With a smile, Eddie wiped off his side of the conversation and watched as Chee’s writing disappeared as well. Throwing on a clean shirt and pants, he threw himself out of his window and into Bill’s room, earning himself a startled yelp from Stan and an eye roll from Bill.

“D-d-do you really have to be th-that dramatic every time you come into my room?”

“You know it!” Eddie grinned. “Hey Stan, what’s up?”

“Not a lot. Richie asked about you today.”

“Who?”

“Th-the curly douche,” Bill piped up.

“Oh!” Eddie exclaimed before furrowing his brow in confusion. “What the fuck for?”

“Just to see how you’re doing.”

“He  _ remembers _ me? It’s been like, a year!”

“Oh yeah, Richie wouldn’t shut up about you for a good week after you met,” Stan said, wincing at the memory. “He talked until my ears bled.”

“Seriously? I met him  _ once _ .”

“You threatened to kill him and got him to shut up, which is like, impossible. I should know, I’m his best friend,” Stan thought for a second before rolling his eyes. “He’s so stupid, but he’s a good guy.”

“He’s an asshole,” Eddie frowned.

“That too. What should I tell him about you to make him stop asking?”

“That I hate him and if he ever shows up at track I’ll-”

“Kill him. Got it,” Stan finished for him, corners of his lips quirking up in a smile. 

“Y-you’re so violent, Eds,” Bill laughed, throwing a corn chip at him.

“Am not!” Throwing it back at him with twice as much force, Eddie proved himself a pacifist by playfully tackling Bill. 

“Stan, help!”

Stan sighed before jumping in, laughing as they all tussled on the floor. They were probably too old for this now, but not a single one of them cared. They could be children if they wanted to, just for a little while. They wrestled for a bit before breaking apart, laughing so hard their ribs hurt.

“So, what’s up?” Eddie asked, lying on his back on the floor and looking up at Stan and Bill. They were upside down from where he was and he smiled to himself. They looked funny. “Learn anything new in school?”

“Actually, yes!” Stan said excitedly, sitting up and crossing his legs. “Me and Richie just got assigned a project on soulmates and it’s very interesting.” 

“Mom says those are just a st-st-story.”

“My mom says so too, but she’s wrong about like, eighty percent of the time so…” Eddie trailed off, prompting Stan to tell them more. 

“It sounds a lot like a story because it’s really rare now. Something about it breeding out by people not getting together with one of their soulmates.”

“One of?”

“Yeah, you can have more than one! What, you think there’s only one person in the world for everyone?” Stan scoffed.

“Right, that wouldn’t make sense.”

“Exactly. Anyway, people would have kids with people that weren’t their soulmate and half the time they’d come out without any sort of identifying soulmarks or quirks. One quirk is that you don’t get to see color ‘till you see your soulmate, so it’s shit like that.”

“Would...w-would one quirk be writing on yourself?” Bill asked, making Eddie bristle.

“Yeah, and having it show up on the other person’s skin! You’ve heard of this?”

“Kinda,” Bill said, staring a hole into Eddie’s head. He made a point to look straight at Stan. “A f-friend mentioned it to me once.”

“You know someone with a soulmate?” Stan's eyes lit up, excitement palpable.

“Maybe, I’m not s-sure.”

“That would be weird, because quirks like those usually don’t manifest until the age of eighteen.”

“So, how would they know for sure?” Eddie piped up, Bill’s gaze intensifying tenfold. He continued ignoring his best friend.

“I’ve heard that in some cases, like with the writing, you can’t see names or locations until they turn eighteen. Nothing is set in stone though, nobody’s really sure how it works anyway.”

“The world just kinda picks someone and says ‘Hey, you have a perfect other half, but fuck everyone else’? Sounds shitty to me,” Eddie said, trying to hide his shaky hands. He wasn’t sure what to think right now, but he knew that this was scaring him a little. What if Chee was his soulmate? “I think it’s bullshit. It sounds fake.”

“I d-don’t know, it sounds p-pretty p-p-plausible to me,” Bill shot him a look, one that said everything he couldn’t at that moment. “Don’t you think, Stan?”

“I think it’s fascinating and you’re just a dumbass. A good dumbass, but still a dumbass,” Stan deadpanned, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

“Hey!”

They all fell into a pile of giggles and wheezes, not laughing at Eddie, but with him. He loved laughing with Chee, and he loved laughing with Bill, but there was something about being able to laugh with someone new that made him feel free and happy. Eddie felt happy. 

The happiness was very soon outshined by his overthinking. The moment they all weren’t talking anymore and they’d settled in for the night, Eddie’s brain went into overdrive, focused entirely on the topic of soulmates. 

Did he love Chee? Well, he supposed he did, but what kind of love? Even if he did romantically love him, there was no guarantee that Chee would ever love him back. Eddie wondered if there had ever been such thing as a one sided soulmate. Knowing his luck, he’d be the one guy to end up in a situation like that. 

Anxiety overcame him and he crawled out of bed, grabbing his marker and phone to shine a light on his bare leg. Flicking his eyes up to the bed, he found Bill and Stan tangled together, sleeping soundly. He suspected there was something else going on there, but he wasn’t going to be the one to say anything about it. Eddie saw the way Bill’s cheeks flushed whenever he talked about Stan, and the way his face lit up whenever he saw Stan was something Eddie had never seen before. Not on Bill, at least. He made a mental note to ask Bill about it later. 

**Hey, guess what**

_ its late why the fuck are you awake _

__ **Literally you’re awake too**

_ touche _

_ whats up? _

__ **My friend was talking to me today, right?**

_ right _

__ Eddie hesitated, pressing his marker to his thigh, not writing anything. He could make something up and talk about something, anything else. But Chee would know he was lying, he always knew when he was lying. 

_ you there? _

__ **Yeah, sorry**

**Apparently like, soulmates are a real thing**

_ oh yeah im doing a project on that right now _

**Well I found out that one of the**

Before he could even finish writing his sentence, Chee was scrawling out a response ten times faster than usual.

_ one of the quirks is the thing weve got _

_ with the writing _

_ i know _

__ **Do you**

Eddie paused again, taking in a shaky breath. He sent up a prayer to the powers that be for his relationship with Chee to be unaffected by all of this.

**Do you think we’re soulmates?**

There was a long pause, one that made Eddie’s fingers itch to write more, just to fill the empty space. After about five minutes, Eddie felt that familiar tickle and let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. 

_ dunno _

_ maybe _

**What do you think?**

_ probably _

_ i mean i like you so _

__ His heart nearly stopped. Chee  _ liked  _ him?

**Like**

**You** _**like** _ **like me?**

_ are you literally in the third grade _

_ yes i fucking like like you  _

_ spaghetti headed dork _

__ **Good because I think I like like you too**

_ oh thank fuck it would have been so awkward if you didn’t like me back _

__ **Of course I like you back, you’re you**

_ that _

_ was cheesy as fuck _

_ and im still blushing  _

__ **You’re the only dork here**

_ no u  _

_ you’re worse _

_ go to sleep spaghetti we can draw faces on our hands and make out with them in the morning _

__ **Gross what the fuck**

_ shut up im tired _

_ go to sleep _

__ **Okay**

**Goodnight, Chee**

_ seeya tomorrow, spaghetti _

__ Carefully, Eddie snuck back into bed with his other two friends, smile pasted on his face. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine what Chee might look like. He fell asleep thinking of dark, curly hair and freckles. 

__________

_ Breathe in, breathe out,  _ Eddie told himself.  _ You can do this, you can fly.  _

It was the last track meet of the year, and so far, his team was undefeated. Nobody could compete with them, as they were one of the best teams in the area, if not the best. This year had been fantastic and always left Eddie a grinning, panting mess. He wished he could say he wasn’t competitive, but he’d be lying if he did. Winning comps was one of the highlights of his fucking  _ life _ , and losing was one of his least favorite things in the world. 

He was the last one up, for the 100 meter sprint. It was his favorite run to do, and he knew for a fact that he was the fastest one in the lineup. Eddie knew he was going to win, it was a simple fact of life. The only thing pissing him off was the weather. Dark, angry stormclouds hovered above them, heavy with the promise of rain. If it rained and ruined the meet before he could get the last few points that would win them the competition, he was going to go feral. 

“I’m gonna go get in my place,” Eddie told the coach, turning and walking toward the track. Jogging in place, he tried warming himself up and shook off any and all of his usual jitteriness. 

“Eddie!” A familiar voice called out from the crowd. Looking over, it was none other than Richie Tozier. Setting his jaw, Eddie tried to tune him out. “Eddie, come here!”

Groaning quietly, he turned back around and walked towards the crowd. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Nothing, I just had a bad feeling about you standing there.”

“Are you serious? That’s it?” Eddie inhaled sharply. He looked Richie up and down, narrowing his eyes. For a second, he considered that he looked a lot like the way he imagined Chee to look. Shaking the thought from his head, he huffed in annoyance. “Listen, just leave me alone. I’ll be just fine-”

Eddie stopped himself, furrowing his brow and narrowing his eyes at how everyone’s hair seemed to frizz up just a bit. Before he could open his mouth to say anything else, a bolt of lightning came streaking down from the heavens, striking the place he’d been standing not fifteen seconds ago. The crowd jumped and screamed, shocked cries coming left and right. People started running, but Eddie stood frozen in place, a death grip on Richie’s arm. 

Looking back at him with wide eyes, he found Richie in shock, mouth agape and eyes wide. “Dude,” Eddie said shakily. “You just saved my fucking life.”

“I totally did,” Richie said shakily, blinking hard to bring himself back. Looking down at Eddie’s hand, he raised a single brow. “Can I have my arm back?”

“Shit, yeah.”

“Should we be running?” Richie asked, a note of panic in his voice. “I feel like we should be running.”

“Bill says lightning never strikes the same place twice, so I don’t really know.”

“Stan says that too, but he also said that grass was poison ivy once.”

“Yeah, how about we run?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Already beginning to run in the opposite direction, Richie bolted. 

He was fast, Eddie noted. Not nearly as fast as he was, though. Sprinting to catch up, Eddie wasn’t even close to going his fastest. No, he was saving that for when he actually got to Richie.

“To the flagpole,” Eddie said, running alongside Richie and patting him on the back once. With that, he surged forward and began to fly. He vaguely heard Richie’s indignant cry, and saw him try to speed up, but Eddie was going to make it first. 

He was gliding, feet barely touching the ground. He was  _ flying _ , and he loved it. In no time at all, Eddie was high fiving the flagpole and slowing down. Panting, he remembered the saddest part of running: having to stop. Behind him, he found Richie jogging over, panting like he’d been running for his life. 

“That,” Richie huffed out. “Was unfair as hell.”

“Was not! You got a head start!”

“ _ EDDIE!” _ Both he and Richie nearly jumped out of their skin. Sonia came lumbering over, tears streaming down her cheeks. “ _ EDDIE-BEAR!” _

“Oh jesus christ,” Eddie mumbled. Plastering on a fake smile, he turned to his mom and ran into her arms. “Hey mommy, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“No it’s  _ not!  _ You could have, you could- you could have  _ died!” _ Sonia wailed, petting his hair the wrong way. 

_ Mommy? _ Richie mouthed, an amused smile on his face. Silently, Eddie very maturely flipped him off. 

“It’s okay, I didn’t. See? I’m fine!”

She checked him from head to toe, practically turning him inside out to make sure there wasn’t a single thing wrong with him. “Okay. Go and change, sweetie. It’s cold and it’s time to go home now.”

“Later, Eds,” Richie said, turning and walking away with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Eddie wondered why he felt kind of sad now that he was gone. 

Eddie did as his mother said, changing into his jeans and a long sleeved shirt to combat the cold weather. She fussed over his not wearing a jacket, of course, but he liked it when it was just a little bit cold. 

“I can’t believe they didn’t end it earlier, the clouds looked absolutely terrifying! Someone could have died!”

“Ma, it was just a thunderstorm,” In reality, Eddie was pissed. Like, really pissed. He had been up next in the competition, and he was up against the other team’s slowest runner. It had been an easy win, and the points would have won his team the competition. 

He felt that all too familiar tickle on his left calf, and he pretended to stretch his legs, putting the one leg up on the dash. Hiking his pant leg up, he read the blue marker that was showing up.

_ you’ll never guess what just happened!!!!!!!!! _

Eddie wanted to ask what, but his mom was right there. Reluctantly, he grabbed a pen due to a distinct lack of markers and  _ slowly _ began to write on himself, making sure his mom didn’t see.

**hey, i can’t talk right now**

“Eddie, are you  _ writing on yourself _ ?!” His mother’s shrill voice called out. 

“Sorry mommy, I won’t-”

“You’re going to get ink poisoning! You can die from that, Eddie-bear!”

“Mom, keep your eye on the road,” Eddie insisted, grabbing the wheel to keep them from veering into the opposite lane. “Mom, the car.”

“I can’t believe you’d do this to yourself, you’re writing on yourself again and-”

“Mommy!” Eddie screamed, seeing what she didn’t.

“What is it?” She asked him. 

The angry honk of a semi and the sound of crushing metal were the last things Eddie Kaspbrak heard before he died. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note the lack of a MCD tag ;)


	4. Square One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure when I'll update next, as my writing has been kinda on and off lately, but I really didn't want to leave y'all hanging for too long after the last chapter.
> 
> This starts IMMEDIATELY after the last chapter!

Richie screamed.

He’d opened his mouth to ask his sister a question, but it came out a broken cry instead. The words never had a chance to even consider leaving him before his entire body caught fire.

At least, that was what it felt like. He’d felt a lot of pain in his life, from whiplash in a car crash to being beaten within an inch of his life. It had come to a point where he’d almost stopped screaming when pain hit entirely. But this? This was a whole different ballgame. He was white hot, every inch of him burning, all the way down to his very bones. 

So, he screamed. Richie couldn’t stop it from bubbling up out of him, mind going completely offline. He was stumbling back, forgetting the stairs and tumbling down them. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the crack of a bone breaking, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t even seem to feel the pain, it paled in comparison to whatever was happening to him. 

Everything was spinning, the room swaying despite him being on the solid floor. He heard Sarah scream for his mom, but it sounded like he was underwater. Richie thought that maybe he was, but if he was in the water, then how was he still on fire? She threw herself over the railing and knelt down next to him, always the gymnast.

“Rich? Richie what’s wrong?”

__ He hurt all over, but his leg hurt ten times more than anything else. It only took Sarah brushing up against it for him to let out an agonized sob and curl up in a ball on the floor. 

“It hurts so bad please Sarah please,” Richie gasped, briefly noticing that his right arm was bent at an angle an arm should not bend.

“This is gonna hurt,” Sarah grabbed him bridal style and let out a groan as she lifted him up, running as best she could to the garage, throwing him in the car. Brushing his hair out of his face and putting his seatbelt on for him, she kissed him on the forehead and leaped over him into the driver’s seat. “Christ, I hope you’re okay.”

Richie just sobbed and blacked out. 

__________

Richie woke up in a sterile white room, scratchy sheets doing nothing to warm him up. Shifting, he winced. His back was killing him, and his arm hurt like a bitch. Looking down, he found it in a cast. He frowned, annoyed that this time it was his right hand. Drawing would be out of the question for a while. A thought occurred to him, and he tried to prop himself up with his elbows to get a look at his legs. Spaghetti would be wondering what had happened to him. 

“About fucking time you wake up.”

Jumping, he turned to the familiar voice. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough,” Sarah said. “You doing okay, Richie-Rich?”

She didn’t even wait for a response before she wrapped him in the biggest hug she’d ever given him. His mom was great at hugs, but nobody compared to Sarah. Though she was all muscle, as gymnastics didn’t leave room for much else, it always felt like he was being hugged by a big and fluffy marshmallow. With her kind smile and sharp wit, she defended those she loved with everything that she was, despite jokingly bullying them all hours of every day. All in all, Sarah was one of his favorite people on planet earth. He had the best big sister ever, and that was that. 

“I mean, I’m alive,” Richie groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if it would squash the migraine slowly growing behind his eyes. “Where’s mom?”

“Oh shit, I forgot to call her!” Scrambling for her phone, she frantically punched in a number and pressed call.

“Dude, you gotta get rid of that fucking thing.”

“Why?”

“It’s a flip phone. Do I really need any other reasons?”

“At least it doesn’t shatter when it’s dropped,” She quipped, raising a single brow. Richie scowled, flashing back to the ghosts of smartphones past. 

Before he could shoot back a witty remark, a voice came on over the speaker of the phone.

“Richie? Baby, is that you?"

“Ehh, what’s up, doc?” Richie said, doing his best Bugs Bunny Voice.

“I see you’re doing just fine,” His mom said drily, and he could almost see the playful annoyance on her face. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been there.”

“Haven’t been-” Richie stopped. “How fucking long have I been out?” 

Sarah raised five fingers, face serious as ever. “Five days. They didn’t know if you were going to pull through.”

“I’m so sorry, Richie,” His mom apologized again, voice wobbly and full of tears. 

“Business trips happen, ma. It’s not a big deal.”

“I know, but I should be there.”

“Hey, I’d rather have you over there with a job to pay the bills for my being here than have you here and broke.”

“Alright guys, we gotta call the doctor, so say goodbye,” Sarah cut in.

“I love you, Richie. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Bye ma, love you too!”

As soon as Sarah snapped the phone shut, Richie shot her a glare. “What the fuck, Sarah? You couldn’t have started with ‘hey, you’ve been out for almost a week and we thought you were gonna die!’? What the fuck happened?”

Laughing nervously, she pressed the nurse call button and mussed up his hair. “Let’s get the doctor to explain, yeah?”

Sarah also happened to be the worst liar known to mankind, always laughing when she was about to be called out on something. That was not a noise he wanted to be hearing when he was bedridden in the hospital. 

“Sarah.”

“Hmm?”

“What the fuck is going on.”

With another nervous laugh, she brushed his hair out of his face and pursed her lips, eyes filling with tears. “Your friend is dead.”

“Stan?!” He yelled, shooting upright in bed, his heartbeat going crazy. His best friend couldn’t be gone, he just couldn’t. “No, no, you’re wrong! Stan can’t be dead, he fucking can’t be.”

“What about me?” Stan walked in, carrying two cups of coffee. Relief washed over him, a choked sob clawing its way out of his chest. “Jesus, you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” Richie breathed, sighing shakily. Turning to his sister with a furrowed brow, his heart dropped down to his feet once more, mentally going through all of the friends that could have possibly died. “Wait, what fucking friend, Sarah?”

“Good morning, Mr. Tozier,” Sarah’s ass was promptly saved by the doctor waltzing into the room, a grim look on her face. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better. Leg’s still achy but I’m fine.”

“Achy?”

“Yeah, my calf burns,” Richie said, absentmindedly rubbing at it and wincing. “I heard I almost died. Why’s that, doc?”

“Richard, I have some bad news for you."

“Oh, that’s exactly what I want to hear after being knocked out for five days,” He said drily.

The doctor ignored him and kept talking. “It’s something we haven’t seen in a while, a long while, but something we’re still trained on just in case it happens.”

“Alright, can you cut to the fucking chase?” Richie interrupted, tired of hearing her talk. He was anxious enough as it was, he didn’t need to hear her ramble on and on the way she was.

“Your sister informed me that you have a soulmate,” The doctor said. “When a soulmate dies, the other can feel it, and will usually suffer a trauma or even death depending on how close they are or how terrible the death.”

“Death?” Richie parroted. “What do you mean, death?”

“Mr. Tozier, I regret to inform you that your soulmate has died.”

With that, his brain went completely offline. Part of him had known, had felt that something was wrong, but this made it real. Hearing it out loud made it all real, and he wished he could go back six days just to talk to his soulmate one more time. 

“What,” He whispered, mouth dry. “The fuck.”

“Yes, there’s a mark on your leg. We believe it’s the last thing they wrote to you,” She gestured at his stinging calf. “According to the information we have on soulmates, it’s permanent. Think of it as a tattoo!”

“A tattoo.”

“Yes, precisely.”

“Get the fuck out,” Richie breathed.

“I’m sorry?” The doctor asked, unsure if she’d actually heard him correctly.

“I said,” Growling, Richie threw the sheets off of himself and grabbed his clothes, folded neatly on the nearest chair. “Get the  _ fuck _ out.”

“Mr. Tozier-”

“I said  _ LEAVE!”  _ He roared, catching a glimpse of his calf as he pulled his pants on.

_ you’ll never guess what just happened!!!!!!!!! _

**hey, i can’t talk right now**

Richie froze, brushing his fingers over the familiar writing on his left leg. It really did look like a tattoo, black and harsh on his pale skin. It was nothing like the smooth blue pen his friend favored, the one that never skipped or left behind blotches of ink. 

He brought his right hand up to his face to brush away the tears beginning to fall, only to remember his cast. Furrowing his brow, he looked up at Sarah and pointed at it. “The fuck is this?”

“You broke your arm when you fell, remember?” She said softly, tears in her eyes. Under any other circumstances, he would have gone to hug her, but right now it just made him mad. He was the only one that deserved to be sad right now, he was the only one that had lost his fucking soulmate.

He took a second to really look at Sarah, bags under her eyes and exhaustion painted on her face. Richie sighed, deflating and letting all the anger go, giving way to the crushing pain of loss and anguish. Pulling his pants the rest of the way up, he leaned on the hospital bed, all too aware of Sarah and Stan staring at him like he was a spooked animal. Neither of them knew what to do, and in truth, neither did Richie. 

“I can’t prescribe anything,” The doctor spoke up, startling all three of them. It seemed they’d all forgotten she was there. “But I can recommend a few good therapists in the area, just in case you want to-”

“I don’t. I’m not seeing any therapists,” Richie said flatly. “Thanks.”

With a tight smile, she walked out of the room as quickly as possible. It was unsurprising that she didn’t want to be around him. 

“I’m sorry, Richie,” Stan said quietly, handing Sarah the coffee and leaning next to him, up against the hospital bed. “I know you love him.”

Choking on a sob, Richie was quietly thankful that Stan hadn’t used past tense. It was true, even dead, Richie still loved him. 

“I don’t even know his name,” He cried, hot tears blurring his vision and wetting his cheeks. “What the fuck guys, I don’t even know his name!”

Stan wasn’t much of a hugger, but he pulled Richie in for a hug anyway. He always seemed to know when his friend needed one, and now was definitely one of those instances. 

Richie sobbed into Stan’s shoulder, hoarse screams muffled, but no less painful. His chest felt like it was caving in on itself, a bone-deep ache starting in his heart and spreading to the rest of his body. Somewhere in his mind, he registered Sarah hugging him from behind, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus on that. His mind was focused solely on the fact that his soulmate was dead.

He would never wake up to a shitty stick figure drawn on his arm, or get into an argument over who the best Joker was, or watch as what was essentially a science lesson appeared on his thigh. No, he would never see any of those things again, he was once again along in his body. He felt it like a lost limb, and he knew he would never stop feeling it. 

“What do I do now? What the  _ fuck _ ,” He coughed, phlegmy and full of tears. “What do I do now? How do I do this without him?”

Stan pulled away just enough to look at him, just enough for Richie to see the tears in his eyes. “You keep going,” Stan whispered. “You just keep going. He would have wanted you to.”

Sniffling, Richie swallowed hard and buried his face in Stan’s shoulder again. “Yeah. He would have.”

He put the rest of his clothes on after blowing his nose at least three times and glared at the hospital as he limped out, as if it was the reason why Spaghetti had died. Richie got in the car with a worried Sarah and Stan, then kept going.

He just kept going. It’s what Spaghetti would have wanted. 

__________

Everything seemed to change after that.

He’d never really paid attention to how much of his life revolved around Spaghetti, but now that he was gone, the loss was obvious to him and to everyone else around him. Richie was never quite sure how to respond when people started asking him if he was okay, and now he was hearing it more than he ever had before. 

It was no secret that he was acting differently. The only problem with it was the fact that only Stan and Sarah were aware of the reason why. He had no way to explain this one away, so he’d taken to doing what he did best: he laughed and shrugged it off. Nobody was brave enough to call him out on it, so he just kept it up and tried to heal.

It wasn’t working.

Stan had told him that Spaghetti would have wanted him to keep going, but it had been a month and he still couldn’t go by the pasta in the grocery store without tearing up. It was fucking ridiculous, but he just couldn’t seem to let go.

Logically, he knew it was because this wasn’t just anyone, it was his  _ soulmate. _ He’d heard stuff about people losing soulmates before, and it was never pretty. They were the stories you told around a campfire, trying to scare people so badly that they wouldn’t be able to sleep for the next week. The stories scared him now, especially because the stories applied to him. Stories of people going blind, going batshit crazy, and sometimes dropping dead made it harder for him to fall asleep every night. He knew he should have been thankful that he lived through his soulmate’s death, but sometimes he wondered if it would have been so bad for him to kick the bucket as well. He tried not to think like that very often. It didn’t work.

However, despite knowing that this death was bound to destroy him in more ways than one, he tried to keep his grieving to a minimum. He didn’t want to put anyone out, he was supposed to be the happy and funny one. Richie tried his best to go back to his old self, but everyone knew something was up. It showed in the dark circles under his eyes and the weight he’d lost. It showed in the half hearted jokes and smiles he offered up, a shadow of his former self. He was trying, but he was failing. 

Art was his usual way to express himself, a way to put all of his bad feelings into one beautiful thing. Unfortunately, with his arm in a cast and his dominant hand completely useless, he couldn’t even have that. All Richie wanted to do was draw one single person until he got them completely right. He wanted to draw Spaghetti, or rather, what he imagined him to look like. Chocolate brown eyes and smooth skin, with dark curls and a soft smile. Richie kicked himself the one time he imagined Eddie for just a split second. Eddie was nothing like Spaghetti, he just happened to remind Richie of him. He decided that he never wanted to be alone with Eddie again.

School was going terribly. He’d stopped doing his schoolwork, instead choosing to space out in class and mark everything wrong on tests. Richie had always been a good student, and more than one teacher had approached him to ask if everything was alright, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do things right. If Spaghetti never got to finish school, why should he? He was totally aware that this was the stupidest possible way to self-sabotage, but he was doing it anyway. Stan had noticed and refused to let him anywhere near their project on soulmates, insisting it was far too important for him to ruin it with his dumbassery. Richie agreed and was surprised to find out how little he really cared. He felt bad for Stan, having to deal with him  _ and  _ with Bill. 

Well, Bill was a whole ‘nother story. 

With his new hobby being avidly ignoring school and all the responsibilities that came with it, Richie busied himself worrying about Bill and Stan. His best friend was having his own issues, what with Bill going AWOL every other day. Richie wasn’t the only one that looked terrible, something was going on with Bill, something that he refused to tell anyone about. When one of the Losers would ask, he’d give them a quiet smile and stutter out a short “I-I-I’m okay”. 

They’d all figured that Stan would be able to get through to him, what with him being the one that got along best with Bill. They’d all thought wrong. Bill shut him out just like he had with everyone else. It was obvious to Richie that Stan was hurt, but nobody else seemed to notice how bad it was. 

The thing was like this: Boy meets boy. Boy falls in love with boy. Boy doesn’t know how to properly express his feelings and doesn’t believe anyone when they say the other boy likes him back. Replace Boy with Stan and Bill and you’ve got yourself a true story. It was infuriating for all of the Losers, but especially for him. Stan wouldn’t believe a single word Richie said when it came to how much Bill liked him, but that was Stan for you. He had a ‘seeing is believing’ mentality, and Bill was too damn shy to offer up the seeing part. 

So, Bill acting weird and leaving school early or not going altogether for two weeks was bad enough, but then he threw everyone a curveball and completely disappeared for another two weeks. No texts, no calls, no answer when they knocked on his door. Hell, they tried knocking on his neighbor’s door to see if Eddie had heard from him, but the house stayed dead silent. Nobody knew what had happened to him, and Richie was equal parts worried and mad at him for it. Stan wasn’t a mess over it in the way most people would be, but he was certainly off. 

Despite getting nothing from Bill, Stan continued to wait until track practice was over to go home, hoping that Bill would show up. Richie would stay with him, and it took him all of two days to realize that Eddie wasn’t coming either. It was weird, because from what he’d heard, track was Eddie’s  _ life _ . He shrugged and moved on, trying not to think of the scrawny little bastard. 

Richie was trying to learn to ignore any tickles he felt on his skin, knowing that it would just be a hair or a leaf or something brushing up against him, and it was definitely not working. Every time he felt even the faintest thing, he scrambled to look at it. It was never what he hoped it would be, and he tried not to think about how he would never find a message from Spaghetti on his skin again. 

He’d taken to not looking down at himself when he was changing in order to avoid looking at his calf. It was a painful reminder of something he’d lost, and it was somehow still tender to the touch. Richie wondered if it would ever feel better, or if it would stay as raw and painful as his heart. 

“Hey, I heard Bill’s coming back today,” Richie grinned, nudging Stan with his elbow. Stan always brought a smile to his face, even if it was brought on by antagonizing him.

“Don’t make me break your other arm, Richie.”

“Aw, I’m just telling you that your  _ favorite  _ person in the  _ whole world _ is showing up today!” He gushed, laughing when Stan glared tiredly. 

“I’m glad he’s back, I was starting to worry about him,” Stan sounded relieved and just the smallest bit excited.

“Hasn’t he texted you?”

“No, he just disappeared again. He hasn't been too talkative lately," Stan pursed his lips, lost in thought. "I’m glad he’s okay.”

“So, he just dropped off the face of planet earth for two weeks? What the fuck, dude?”

“He probably has a good reason for it.”

“Sure he does,” Richie rolled his eyes. “Alright, I’ll see you in History.”

Stan waved and walked away, leaving Richie alone with his thoughts. 

Though it had been a month, his heart still didn’t ache any less than it did when he’d first woken up. He’d just assumed that things would get better, but apparently he’d been very wrong. Stan and Sarah had been telling him to just “give it time”, but he still wasn’t sure that would make much of a difference. 

His whole life had changed so drastically in such a short time, all due to one seemingly little thing. Richie knew he was slacking in his classes, and he was aware that he’d become a much more irritable person. He wasn’t himself anymore, but he couldn’t help it. A piece of him was missing, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to fill the hole that his soulmate’s death had left in him. 

He never got to class on time before it all happened, he was usually stuck in the bathroom writing out a message or two to Spaghetti, but here he was, walking into class and sliding into seat right as the bell shrieked that school was now in session. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, today we will have a new student joining us,” Mrs. Douglas said, starting to speak the moment after the bell finished ringing. She hated silence and never seemed to stop talking. She searched the room for someone that didn’t seem to be there, laughing nervously when she couldn’t find them. “Uh, he’ll be here soon enough.”

As if the universe had heard her loud and clear, there was a knock at the door. Richie put his head down on the table, already bored with this. There was a part of him that was curious, but most of him just didn’t care. He was tired, sad, and really just wanted to go home already. The school day had just begun, but Richie was always ready to go home.  _ I could go for a nap _ , he thought.  _ A nap would be nice. _

There was the click of the teacher’s heels and then the opening of the door, followed by a sound he didn’t know. Lifting his head, he looked up and was immediately shocked into being fully awake. 

“Class, let me introduce you to Edward Kaspbrak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe :^)


	5. Break A Leg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie’s jaw all but dropped at the sight of him. Not just because he wasn’t expecting the homeschooled kid to show up, but because of how absolutely fucking terrible he looked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place immediately after chapter 4!

Richie’s jaw all but dropped at the sight of him. Not just because he wasn’t expecting the homeschooled kid to show up, but because of how absolutely fucking  _ terrible _ he looked. The guy looked like he’d been run over by a car, stuck in a wheelchair with what looked like a broken arm and leg, cuts all over his face, and various bruises mottling his pale skin. The bags and dark circles under his eyes were prominent enough to make him almost look like a corpse, and his eyes were those of a dead man. That, or of someone who truly wanted to be dead. 

Bill was behind him, quietly wheeling him in before Eddie batted his hands away and began wheeling himself around. That explained why Bill had been in and out of school. Come to think of it, he had been looking pretty shitty lately too. Richie took a moment to kick himself for being so self centered. He couldn’t believe that he’d been so wrapped up in his own grief that he hadn’t even taken a second to check up on his friend. They weren’t super close or anything, but Bill was still his friend.

Coming up to the teacher, Eddie came to a full stop and stared up at her as if he expected something from her. She simply stared back, confused. 

“Where the fuck am I supposed to park my ass, ma’am?” He snapped after a solid minute of staring, leaving the whole class stunned. Richie couldn’t help but snort at the look on the teacher’s face, offended and not knowing how to react.

“Excuse me, young man?” She asked, voice shrill.

“I said what I said.” Eddie sneered. "And my name is Eddie, not Edward."

It spoke volumes about how shitty he looked when she let it slide and gestured at the seat next to Richie, making his heart sink to his toes.

“Richie, could you please move that chair to the back?”

“But-”

“It isn’t optional.”

He begrudgingly moved it, turning down Bill’s offer to help. School may not be his forte anymore, but he could move shit all day if asked to. He wasn’t strong or anything, but he could handle a fucking chair. Once he’d moved it, Richie made it back to his seat at the front of the class and slumped down, huffing in annoyance. 

“Thanks,” Eddie said shortly, making his way to his new desk, right next to Richie. 

“Eddie dear, would you like to tell the class one thing about yourself?”

“Sure,” He smiled sweetly before swiveling around as best he could to face the class. “If anyone tries to grab my chair and wheel me around to ‘help me’, I’ll break your wrists.”

“Eddie! Don’t make me send you to the principal’s office!”

“Whatever.”

Something was off, and Richie was very aware of this fact. The first time they’d met hadn’t been the greatest, but Eddie’s way of being was completely different than it was now. Sure, he’d been angry and honestly a bit like a feral animal, but this wasn’t anywhere near the same thing. The last time they’d seen each other had been a nice experience, too. Richie wasn’t sure what had happened, but he seemed furious at everything, for no actual reason. Eddie had been kind up until he fucked it up the first time they met, and Richie was almost sure that he’d gotten a second chance with the lightning incident, but all traces of that were gone. 

“Hey,” Richie whispered as the teacher began to speak. “Welcome to public school.”

“Hey,” Eddie whispered back, smiling. “Go fuck yourself and die.”

“Boys!” Mrs. Douglas called out, making them both jump. “Office summons for both of you. They’re urgent, so Richie, please help him out on your way there.”

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to grab Eddie’s chair and wheel him out, having seemingly ignored his earlier threat to break wrists. Gulping, Richie got up and carefully carted Eddie out of the room, letting go the moment the door closed. 

“Sorry, it just looked like she wanted me to-”

“Yeah, I saw. It’s fine,” Eddie said shortly, annoyed. “Not your fault.”

He walked alongside Eddie, leading him through the empty hallways to the main office. “So, why don’t you just use crutches?”

“...what?” Eddie stopped and faced him, looking at him like he was the stupidest person in the world.

“Your leg’s broken, why don’t you just use crutches?”

There was a deafening silence, one that got more and more uncomfortable as it stretched on. Eddie simply stared at him, studying his face closely. “Are you stupid?”

“What?”

“I said are you fucking stupid, Richie.”

“No!”

“It sounds like you are because my leg isn’t broken, fuckface,” Eddie snapped, hiking up the leg of his pants to show...a whole lotta nothing. “It’s fucking  _ missing _ .”

Now, Richie dealt very badly with stressful or emotional situations. He’d never known how to make it anything but more awkward, so he usually just joked to get around it. It was good in some places, bad in others, even fucking worse in some. 

This was even fucking worse than some.

“Well, we should put its face on a milk carton so you can find it soon,” Richie blurted out, immediately regretting it. His hands flew up to cover his mouth, face going bright red. “Oh my god I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said…”

“Oh my  _ god,” _ Eddie said, a grin spreading across his face before he burst into laughter. It was music to Richie’s ears. “Yeah, let’s put up some posters and shit, maybe you can help me make them.”

“I can get us into the print shop studio and we can do that if you want?”

“Of course I fucking want!” He’d done a one eighty since about five seconds ago, when Richie had been fearing for his life.

“I’m glad you liked my joke so much?” Eddie’s eyes snapped up to Richie’s face and studied him carefully before tilting his head and huffing out a little ‘huh’. “We should probably get to the office before they send out a search team.”

“You’re still an asshole, y’know. Making me laugh doesn’t change that,” Eddie frowned, the gleam in his eyes disappearing once more.

“Yeah, I know,” Pointing at Eddie’s chair, Richie raised his brows. “Still don’t need help with that?”

“No, and if you touch me-”

“You’ll tear my arms off and beat me over the head with them, got it,” Looking down, he noticed Eddie’s broken arm. “Hey, we both broke the same arm.”

“Ten bucks says yours was because you’re an idiot.”

“Nah, I had a seizure and fell down a flight of stairs.”

That was the story he and Sarah had thought up for their mom. He had a seizure, fell down the stairs, and knocked himself out. They’d both been thankful when she didn’t ask why he’d been out for five days, and when anyone asked he would give them a shrug. People usually stopped asking at that point. 

“Oh,” Eddie said, embarrassed. He narrowed his eyes at Richie. Something told him that Eddie didn’t buy his story, and he took a moment to hope he wouldn’t press for answers or he might break. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

The rest of the walk to the office was very quiet, though it was a comfortable silence. He would be happy with having made Eddie laugh, but he was a bit busy focusing on the fact that he was missing a fucking leg. Richie desperately wanted to ask what had happened, but Eddie seemed like he really didn’t want to talk about it. For the first time in his life, Richie kept his mouth shut.

They made it to the office with minimal casualties and no damage done to Richie’s person. “Hello we’re here for Richie Tozier and Eddie...Kaspbrak?” He hoped he hadn’t killed the fuck out of Eddie’s last name. 

“First door on your-”

“We both know I know where the principal’s office is, Amanda. Thanks though.”

“Whatever.”

Eddie scoffed and got ahead, unapologetically running Richie’s foot over. He yelped and hopped on one foot to catch up, hoping nothing was broken. For the love of fuck, his arm was still healing, he didn’t need a broken foot too. 

“Slow down, Eds!”

“My name isn’t fucking Eds,” Eddie stopped in the middle of the path and looked back at him with murder in his eyes. “Don’t call me that.” 

Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Alright, Eddie Spaghetti,” Pain lanced through him at realizing what he’d just said. He missed his Spaghetti, but he hadn’t even realized the word rhymed with Eddie. Maybe that had been his name. Maybe he could go through Maine obituaries and look for any Eddies when he got back home. Maybe maybe maybe.

In the meantime, Eddie made a broken animal noise, half getting out of his chair. Holding his hands up in surrender, Richie took a step back. “Never mind, dumb nickname. Dumb nickname!”

“Never call me that again.  _ Never,”  _ Eddie hissed, and were those tears in his eyes? Before Richie could tell for sure, Eddie had turned back around and was bursting into the principal’s office. Sighing, Richie trailed behind him, making sure to keep his distance.

Slipping into the room, he saw Eddie setting his jaw at the lack of a space for his chair. Before he could open his mouth and say some stupid shit in front of the principal, Richie walked over and moved one of the two chairs in front of the principal’s desk out of the way, gaining himself a grateful half-smile from Eddie.

Clearing her throat, the principal silently demanded their attention. Richie had always hated when Mrs. Moran did that, and he’d been to her office enough times to properly hate it. He was usually a good student, but pranks and obnoxiousness apparently did not go unpunished.

“Good morning, boys. I-”

“Why are we here?” Eddie cut in. “I need to get back to class, I’ve already missed a month of school. I don’t need to be wasting my time here.”

“I was getting there, Mr. Kissbreck,” She butchered Eddie’s last name, tripping over the letters like a baby deer. Turning to Richie, she looked him up and down, disappointment clear on her face. “Richie, you’ve always been such a good student, what happened?”

“I don’t…” Richie paused, trying to find the right words to make himself not look like an idiot. “A friend died.”

“That’s very sad,” She said, absolutely no sympathy in her voice. “Anyway, your grades have taken a turn for the worse. As in, you’re somehow failing in every subject. I’m not sure how you’re doing it, but I’m almost impressed by how badly you’ve managed to fail.”

He felt the tips of his ears going red with his cheeks quickly following suit, and he looked down at his feet. He felt Eddie’s eyes on him, probably thinking of how stupid Richie was. 

“Yeah, what about it?” Richie snapped. 

“Calm down, Mr. Tozier. I just wanted to notify you that you’re on the brink of failing the school year, meaning that you won’t graduate unless you give it your all and then some from here on out.”

Stomach dropping to his feet, Richie inhaled sharply and clenched his fists. He opened his mouth to talk, only to be interrupted. 

“Excuse me,” Eddie piped up, annoyance clear in his tone. “Am I just here so you can embarrass him?”

“Oh, absolutely not!”

“Really? Because it sounds like it.”

“No,” Mrs. Moran blustered. “I’m here to try and help him. To help both of you, actually.”

Richie shot Eddie a worried look, finding that Eddie’s face mirrored his own.

“How...How are you planning on helping both of us?” Richie asked cautiously.

“Mr. Tozier,” She said proudly. “Your class schedule will be changed to match Mr. Katsgrap’s, and you will be the one to take care of him. In return, you’ll get enough extra credit that you’ll be sure to graduate!”

The room was dead silent, looks of horror and confusion being exchanged between the two, starkly contrasted by the pride radiating from Mrs. Moran.

“He’s gonna fucking  _ what?”  _ Eddie’s voice raised an octave, and Richie just knew that there was a storm incoming. 

“Watch your language!”

“No!” Eddie yelled, fury rolling off him in waves. “Fuck you, I don’t need his help. I’m not a fucking cripple!”

“Don’t you make me call your mother!”

Eddie seemed to deflate at that, immediately going quiet. “Go ahead. She won’t answer.”

“She will if I’m calling,” Mrs. Moran said coldly.

“She’s dead, ma’am.”

“Oh,” Whatever she had been about to say died in her mouth. I’m very-”

“Yeah, whatever, just put him in my classes so I can leave.”

With an anxious laugh, she turned to Richie with a look that could kill. “Mr. Tozier, are you planning on having any outbursts over this?”

“No, but thank you for the extra credit.”

“Can we leave?” Eddie asked, sounding so much smaller than he really was. 

“Yes, please go back to your class. Mr. Tozier, here’s your new class schedule.” Handing Richie a piece of paper, she went back to her desk, making a point to look anywhere but at the two boys. 

“Can you open the door?” Eddie asked impatiently. Richie couldn’t help but notice the tears glistening in his eyes. 

“Yeah, sure,” Opening the door, Richie grimaced as Eddie ran his other foot over. “You’re welcome.”

The walk back to class was silent and heavy, and though he seemed to want to be alone, Eddie kept pace with Richie. Staying alongside him, he looked more comfortable than he was alone. 

“I’m sorry,” Richie said, breaking the silence. “About your mom, I mean.”

“Yeah. She wasn’t like, a great mom or anything. But she loved me, and she was my  _ mom _ , you know?” Looking up at Richie with watery eyes, he looked broken inside. “And I miss her.”

“It sucks when people die.”

With a mirthless laugh, Eddie reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes. “Anyway. We should get back to class.”

They walked back, the ice between them having melted just a little bit more. 

__________

Richie’s class schedule had been flip turned upside down, leaving him behind in some classes and ahead in others. Physics was going to be a killer, especially now that he had a teacher that barely spoke above a whisper and no Spaghetti to help him.

“Do you need help?”

Eyes flicking up from the crude doodles in his notebook, Richie was surprised to find Eddie holding out what was essentially an olive branch. “Fuck yes I need help, I suck at this.”

“Let me see it, dumbass.” Snatching Richie’s notebook away from him, Eddie took one glance at it and glared down at the paper, then up at him. “There are no notes here.”

“Astute observation, Sherlock.”

“Your drawing is shit, too.”

“I’m right handed, idiot,” Richie snatched his notebook away from Eddie. He missed being able to draw. Only two or three more weeks and he was golden, but until then, he was stuck with wobbly stick figures and poor attempts at realism.

“Whatever,” The bell screamed at them to get to lunch. “Where are we going now?”

“Somewhere special. Time to eat!” 

Eddie paled, looking anywhere but at Richie. “I, uh...I should look for Bill.”

“Good thing he eats with us. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

He kept pace with Eddie, leading him to the spot all the Losers had for themselves. It was nice, they’d all nicked some chairs and dragged them behind the bleachers, where Ben had built them a collapsible gazebo type thing, one that they would pull out at lunch and push right back up against the wall when the bell rang once more. To hide it all, they had a curtain hung up with a string of bells attached to it, so the jingling sound would alert them all to scramble and hide everything before they were found out. It had saved their asses on more than one occasion, and Richie was proud to say that he was the one that had thought it up in the first place. 

Richie was pleased to find that Eddie’s chair fit behind the bleachers with no issues, as he was not prepared to deal with the alternative. “Hey guys, where’s Bill?”

“He’s out looking for his friend,” Beverly said, trailing off when she saw Eddie coming up behind him, a smile spreading across her face. “Hey, it’s the new kid! I saw you on my way in today!”

“Sorry, I don’t remember you.”

“That’s fine,” Taking a bite of her apple, Bev walked over and offered her hand up to Eddie. “Nice to meet you, I’m Beverly.”

“I’m Eddie.”

“ _ You’re  _ Eddie? Kaspbrak?” She asked, face lighting up. “Bill never shuts up about you!” 

“He doesn’t?” Dumbfounded, Eddie blinked owlishly. “Are you sure?”

“He really doesn’t,” Richie agreed. “He’s been meaning to get us all to ambush you so you can make more friends, but he sorta disappeared before we could make that happen.”

A small smile graced Eddie’s lips, and Richie decided that he was going to make it his personal mission to keep that smile there for as long as he could. 

“Where is he?” Eddie asked, looking around as if he’d magically appear.

“He’s out looking for you,” Stan called out from behind her. 

“Stanley the Manly!” Richie exclaimed, excited to see his best friend despite the fact that he’d seen him just this morning. 

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” Stan groaned, earning him a shit-eating grin from Richie. “Hey, Eddie. Long time no see!”

“Yeah, long time.”

“Ben and Mike are over there, let me introduce you,” Richie said, resisting the instinct to grab the wheelchair and just guide him over. Eddie was obviously having some issues with his arm being in a cast and all, but his determination seemed to win. “Benny-boy! Mikey! We’ve got a new addition to the group!”

“Hey, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Coming up to greet him, Mike shook Eddie’s hand gently. He was strong, but soft and kind as well. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“My name is Ben. You’re Eddie, right?” Ben bypassed the handshake and went right in for a hug. Eddie’s eyes slipped closed and he seemed to almost pull Ben in for a tighter grip. Richie took a moment to wonder when he’d been hugged last. “Want to help me build a table? It’ll be able to fold and everything, it’s going to be really cool.”

“I don’t know, my arm is broken and my leg…” Trailing off, Eddie stared down at the empty pant leg. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay, you can still help. Come on over!” 

Eddie trailed after Ben like a lost puppy, curiosity piqued. 

“I c-c-can’t find him,” A very distressed Bill yelled, throwing open the curtain and setting off all the bells at once. “Ben, can you…” Seeing Eddie happily hammering a few nails into the table next to Ben, Bill trailed off and let out a relieved sigh. “Eddie, you f-fuck.”

Head snapping up, relief spread across Eddie’s face. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Looking f-for you!” Crossing his arms and huffing, Bill looked like an annoyed mother scolding her child. “You can’t just disappear l-like that!”

“Big Bill, take it easy. It’s totally my fault, I wheeled him away against his will and brought him here,” Waggling his brows, Richie looked over at Eddie as if waiting for him to agree. “Right, Eds?”

“My name’s not Eds, fucker,” Richie withered under the glare Eddie shot him, looking like he was about ready to leap out of his wheelchair and tear his throat out. “I’m sorry, Bill. My schedule’s a mess because I’m stuck with him now.”

“Stuck with him?” Stan repeated, pulling a chair up next to Eddie.

“Yeah, Moran changed my schedule to fit his so I could help him out or she wouldn’t let me graduate,” Richie grumbled. Walking over to Stan, he ruffled his hair and yelped when he got an elbow to the ribs. “Ow! Anyway, it’s bullshit.”

“S-s-sounds like it,” It almost looked like Bill was pouting, staring at Eddie like he’d kicked his puppy. “Why didn’t she choose m-me?”

“Because you’re not failing everything, the dumbass over there is,” Eddie sneered, jerking his thumb at Richie. 

“Hey, he’s not a dumbass,” Stan snapped, brows furrowing. “He has his own shit going on, Eddie.”

“It’s okay,” Richie had mercy, seeing the panicked expression creeping onto Eddie’s face. “I am kind of a dumbass.”

“He’s actually really smart under the idiot exterior,” Stan explained, gentler this time. “Sorry for getting angry.”

“No, I-uh, I was out of line. I don’t even know you guys that well,” Eddie stuttered out, sounding almost like Bill. “Sorry, Rich...ie. Richie.”

“It’s whatever. Anyway, if you want to eat, you should probably do it soon or the bell’s gonna ring.”

“I’m fine.”

“L-like hell you are. You have lunch, y-you promised to eat at least some of it,” Bill said, looking somewhat distressed. 

“I’m not hungry, Bill.”

“It’s all good, Bill. He’s just too scared to eat in front of other people, right Eds?”

That was all it took for Eddie to set his jaw and root around in his backpack for his lunch, shoving an apple slice in his mouth and chewing defiantly. Bill gaped at him, huffing out a laugh before sitting next to Stan. As in, sharing the same seat with him. Narrowing his eyes, Richie opened his mouth to say something, only to snap it back shut when he caught Eddie’s murderous gaze. Raising his hands in defeat, Richie took out his own lunch and began scarfing it down.

“Jesus, your food isn’t going anywhere, why the fuck are you attacking it like that?” Eddie asked, disgusted at the sight of him eating. 

“Well, it’s not going anywhere now,” With his sandwich gone and his stomach content, Richie threw Eddie a proud little smile and began packing his bag so he’d be ready for the bell. 

“H-he always eats like that.”

“How can you guys stand it?”

“We don’t, he just won’t leave,” Stan said drily. 

“Aw, you guys are bullying me. Bev, they’re bullying me!” He called out, getting her attention.

“Well, what’d you do to deserve it this time?” She laughed, tossing her apple core in the trash bin they had dragged back there. 

“Nothing! Eddie’s just mean to me.”

“Only because you deserve it,” Eddie sniped. 

Before Richie could get out a response that would surely just annoy Eddie, the bell rang. It set all the Losers in motion, folding their furniture and propping it up against the wall. Eddie just watched in wonder as they put everything in its place, amazed that they’d managed to make this place what it was all on their own. 

“You guys made this place?”

“Mostly Ben, but yeah. You ready to go to class?”

“I don’t think I ever will be,” Groaning, Eddie took out his schedule with his good hand and looked it over. “We’ve got history next, with uhh...Mrs. Thibodeau? Am I saying that right?”

“I think so, I’ve had her all year and I still don’t know if I’m saying it the right way,” A thought occurred to him. “Hey, is that your last class of the day? I didn’t work my ass off to have my free periods taken away from me.”

“Yeah, it’s my last class. You’re lucky I get out early too.”

“Whatever. Anyway, let’s head out, class is all the way across campus.”

“Whatever,” Eddie parroted, grumbling and already wheeling away. “Are you coming with me or not?”

“Yeah, okay,” He caught Stan giving him a Look, one he couldn’t decipher. “What?”

“Nothing. Just be careful, okay?”

“Careful of what?” Stan just shrugged and walked off to class. “Careful of what, Stan!”

“Richie, move your ass!” Eddie yelled. “We’re going to be late!”

“Fine, fine. Impatient little fuck,” Grabbing his bag, Richie ran after Eddie. 

They made it to the class in one piece, despite bickering their whole way there. Richie suspected Eddie’s crankiness may have been related to his arm hurting, but he couldn’t do anything to help unless he let Richie wheel him around. 

The class itself was uneventful, a total snoozefest. Richie usually loved history, but lately, he just couldn’t find it in himself to give a fuck about shit that happened in the past. In fact, he was actively trying to avoid his past in order to stay sane. 

Eddie was fidgeting the whole time, jiggling his good leg or tapping his fingers on the table at all times. It was driving Richie up the fucking wall. It wasn’t like he could say anything, he would probably end up setting off a bomb of supercharged fury. Today wasn’t his day, and it looked like it wasn’t Eddie’s either, so he really didn’t need to start shit when it wasn’t necessary. He gritted his teeth and tried to focus on anything but that. 

Usually, he’d draw to keep himself busy. Richie tried, he really did, but his left hand was so wobbly and uncoordinated that everything he drew ended up looking deformed and only left him ten times more frustrating than he had been about five seconds beforehand. Eddie looked over once or twice, and Richie silently thanked the powers that be for preventing him from laughing, because he was sure he would have lost his shit if he had. His patience for the day was wearing thin, and he was pretty sure that even the smallest thing could set him off right then and there. 

He took a moment to look at Eddie, and that was all it took for his brain to get started with painful thoughts.  _ Hey,  _ his mind offered.  _ He looks a lot like Spaghetti, huh? _ Choking on his own spit, Richie cursed his own mind for offering up that comparison. Eddie looked nothing like Richie’s mental image of his soulmate, except, maybe the nose. And the mouth. Maybe even the eyes. Shaking his head, Richie derailed that train of thought and tried to think of literally  _ anything _ else.

Time went by quickly, seemingly taking mercy on them both. The moment the bell rang, Richie shot up in his seat and began packing up at the speed of light. Eddie did the same, eager to get the hell out of there. 

“Richie, Eddie, could you two stay for just a bit? I have something to work out with you two,” Mrs. Thibodeau said cheerfully.

Eddie groaned quietly, while Richie deflated and rolled his eyes when she turned her back. What the hell was today going to throw at him now? The class cleared out, leaving only him and Eddie behind, looking like prisoners on death row.

“Thanks, boys. Richie, you already know about this, but we’re forgoing a final and just doing a final group research project for this class,” She said, looking at them excitedly. “I know you were looking forward to your topic, so I’ve decided to let you keep it!”

Richie’s blood turned to ice. “Keep it?”

“What is it?” Eddie asked cautiously. 

“It will be a research project on soulmates!” If Richie didn’t know any better, he would say that the color drained from Eddie’s face. “Richie, I’ve already assigned Stan a new partner, but feel free to use any research you gathered with him on this! It’ll be a great opportunity to get to know each other.”

“Is that it?” Eddie was uncharacteristically quiet, seemingly ready to bolt. 

“Yes, that’s it! I’ll see you boys in class tomorrow.”

Both he and Eddie were quiet on the way out, to the point where Richie was convinced that everything was okay. Once they exited the building itself, Eddie did a full one eighty to face him, looking like a raging bull. 

“I cannot fucking  _ believe _ I have to do a fucking project with  _ you,” _ Growling, he seemed ready to kill Richie. “Fuck you.”

“Dude, it’s not my fault we got paired up!”

“I’m not saying it is!” He snapped and turned back around, heading for the field. “I’m saying that you should do your bit at home and I’ll do the fucking same.”

“Hey, wait,” Richie ran after him, trying to keep up. “She said we have to get to know each other to do it, remember?”

“Who gives a fuck? Just text me and we can get to know each other like that. Now fuck off.”

Eddie turned onto the track and left Richie standing there alone. Shrugging to himself, he walked off to his car. Richie counted this as a win, at least he’d gotten the okay to text him. Reaching down, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and geared up to tap out an annoying message to Eddie.

_ Wait. _

Groaning, he slipped his phone back into his pocket. Eddie hadn’t given him his number, the little bastard. 

_ Whatever. _

Getting into his car, Richie turned up the volume and tried to forget about Eddie Kaspbrak until tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're confused about anything, just wait. It'll all be explained at some point, so stick around ;) If you do have questions, feel free to comment them and I'll answer them as best I can without actually spoiling anything!


	6. Flames and Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “...Eddie? Are y-you awake?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not a doctor. I don't know how hospitals work. I have a barebones knowledge of the way they do shit that has come from watching like two episodes of House and three movies that take place in a hospital. Please go easy on me, I'm doing my very best!
> 
> TW!!!!!!! Very brief mention of a suicide attempt and mentions of suicidal thoughts throughout this chapter. 
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy this chapter!

**_Eddie_ **

**Two weeks earlier**

“...Eddie? Are y-you awake?”

Eddie was awake, but he couldn’t speak. He felt panic rising and ready to overflow before realizing where he was.  _ Oh, it’s a hospital. _ It wasn’t shocking that he could tell just by the smell of it, his eyes not even open yet. He’d spent so much of his life in and out of this damn place that he knew it better than the back of his hand. There was a tube going down his throat, and he tried not to panic. Eddie knew that would just make it harder on him. He swallowed hard around it, wincing at the feeling of it. 

“Eddie?” Bill asked again, his voice thick and teary.  _ Why is he sad?  _ Eddie thought.  _ Is he okay? _

Slowly, Eddie opened his eyes to check on his best friend, squinting at the too-bright hospital lights, a blinding white. A shaky sigh came from someone next to him, and he turned his head to find his best friend with tears rolling down his cheeks. Furrowing his brow, he reached out and reached out to hold Bill’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“C-can you talk?” Shaking his head, Eddie pointed at the tube in his mouth. Reaching up to press the nurse call button, he found his right arm in a cast. With a sharp inhale, he stared over at Bill with a thousand questions in his eyes. “I’ll p-p-press it for you.”

_ So, my arm’s broken,  _ Eddie tried to sigh deeply, but ended up cutting it off halfway, a stab of pain going through his ribs.  _ And something’s wrong with my ribs. Awesome. _

“Let’s do yes and n-no questions, okay?” Nodding, Eddie tried his best to smile at Bill. “Do you remember anything?”

_ No,  _ Eddie shook his head, but stopped halfway.  _ Wait. _

_ Crushing metal, a sudden impact, a cut off scream that ended in a deafening silence. Pain. So much fucking pain, pain and screaming. Multicolor lights in the distance, too bright for his blurry eyes and hurting body.  _

Eddie made a pained noise and slowly nodded at Bill.

“Y-y-you died, Eddie,” Bill said quietly. “You were gone. Do you r-remember that?”

__ _ Darkness. Nothing but inky black. An explosion in his chest bringing him back to the lights, blinding him and leaving him sobbing and begging to die. Wailing louder than the ambulances, being carried away, and then, nothing.  _

_ Nothingness. _

Eddie nodded once more.

“You’ve been out f-for two weeks,” Eyes widening, Eddie felt like he was going to throw up. “I d-didn’t think you were gonna m-m-make it.”

Trying his best to smile, Eddie squeezed Bill’s hand again, hoping it conveyed his message. 

_ As if you could get rid of me. _

“Does anything h-hurt?”

_ Yes _

“Ribs?”

_ Yes _

“Arm?”

_ Yes _

“Uh, everything?”

_ Absolutely fucking yes _

A nurse came in and shooed Bill away, leaving him hovering in the corner of the room until she was done taking out the tube. Eddie had never been so thankful to have the ability to talk until today, rubbing his throat with his good hand as if to warm up his vocal cords. Thanking the nurse, he directed himself at Bill while she puttered around and checked on him. 

“What else is broken?” Eddie asked, his voice rougher than ever before. “Everything fucking hurts, dude.”

“Uh,” Gnawing on his lip like he did when he was nervous, Bill cracked his knuckles and took a deep breath. “Y-your ribs are cracked.”

“I figured. Breathing hurts.”

“That’s all th-that hurts?”

“Well, everything hurts, but my leg hurts like a bitch,” Eddie said, frowning. A thought occurred to him, panic lancing through him. “Did I break it? Am I going to be able to run again?”

“Eddie…” Bill choked out, face screwed up as if he was the one beaten down and broken. “They h-had t-t-to amputate.”

He’d heard people jokingly say that “oh, my blood iced over when I heard that!”, but he’d never really known what they meant. At least, he hadn’t known up until that very moment. His entire body went cold, the blood draining from his face as he tore at the sheets to look at his leg. Or rather, the lack of one. 

“Eddie, w-wait,” Bill tried to reach out, but Eddie just snarled like a cornered dog and batted his hand away, continuing to wrestle with the blanket.

Throwing it off, he froze in place and simply stared down at the empty space where the bottom half of his left leg should be. 

“No,” Eddie wheezed. He hadn’t used it in years, but he was itching for his inhaler, fingers twitching and breath coming in short gasps. “It hurts, why does it hurt? Bill, it’s not even there, it’s not even fucking there, why does it  _ hurt _ ?”

“Mr. Kaspbrak, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down,” There were hands on him, the nurse trying to settle him down. His skin was on fire, the lights far too bright, and the hospital smell was choking him, he was  _ drowning _ in it. Thrashing, he threw her off of him, swinging around to get up off the bed. “Can someone call- Jesus christ!”

She tried to catch him, but before anyone could react, Eddie was on the floor, clutching what was left of his leg and gasping for breath. His ribs were screaming along with him, his arm crying out in pain. And his leg, oh, his leg. It ached, it burned, it  _ hurt _ . 

“Bill,” Eddie sobbed, eyes screwed shut. “Make it stop, it hurts.”

“It’s okay, Eddie. You’re okay, you’re going to be okay,” Gentle hands cupped his face, bringing him some comfort. Bill didn’t stutter once. 

“Mom, where’s my mom? Mommy, it hurts!” Eddie cried out, looking around frantically. “Where is she?”

“She...Eddie, she didn’t…”

“No, you’re  _ lying _ . Where the  _ fuck _ is she?” He wailed, shoving Bill’s hands away and trying to bring himself to his feet. 

Then there were hands on him, strange faces above him and foreign bodies pull-pull-pushing him up and onto the bed. Eddie screamed, thrashing around. He screamed, hitting and kicking and scratching anyone and anything he came into contact with. Eddie heard someone curse, and it brought him far more satisfaction than it probably should have.

“Please,” The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving him weak and in pain. “Where did she go, she can’t be gone.”

There was a pinprick, the sting of it barely registering over the agony of everything else. He reached out to Bill, letting out a choked sob when his friend took his hand. His vision started going out, the whole room wobbly and slowly getting darker, slowly dragging him back into the calm blackness of sleep.

“Chee?” Eddie whispered, clutching his leg. Looking down, he found no writing on him. For the first time in a long time, his skin was empty. 

As he drifted off, he wondered why he couldn’t be the one to go instead. 

__________

  
**Present Day**

“You’re going to be staying in the guest room, we already set it up for you!” Bill’s mom had chirped two weeks ago, putting a gentle hand on Eddie’s head. She ran her fingers through his curly hair once and turned to show him his new room. Or rather, Georgie’s old room. 

Georgie’s death was something nobody had ever really been able to get over. They all felt his loss like a hole in their chest, but nobody had taken it as hard as Bill. His little brother had practically been his everything, he was the only one closer to him than Eddie was. The day Georgie died was the day Bill nearly lost his mind. 

Having grown up with him, Eddie remembered all the late nights holding Bill as he screamed himself hoarse. Eddie knew that Bill still blamed himself for what had happened, but he’d gotten a hell of a lot better than he was before. 

They didn’t talk about it, but he remembered breaking Bill’s bathroom door down and catching him with those pills in hand. Eddie remembered flushing them down the toilet and yelling until he cried, begging Bill not to leave him. 

_ “Do you really think Georgie would have wanted this?” Eddie cried. “Do you think he’d want to see his big brother dead? Do-” _

_ He didn’t even finish his sentence before getting punched in the mouth, shutting him up and sending him reeling. Reaching up to wipe his mouth, he smeared blood from his split lip across his face. His mom was going to kill him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. _

_ “D-d-don’t you f-fucking talk about G-g-g-g-” Bill was stuck on the name, he couldn’t get it out. “G-g-” _

_ “Georgie,” Eddie finished for him. “I’m sorry, Bill.” _

_ Bill let out a sob and collapsed in front of him, letting Eddie reach out and pull him into a hug. Though Bill was still bigger than he was, Eddie was the perfect size to hold him while he cried.  _

_ “I-I’m s-sorry, Eddie. I’m sorry.” _

_ “It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.” _

Everything had been okay for a while, but now it wasn’t, now was it? The present day found Eddie permanently wheeling himself into a house that wasn’t his own. It found the Denbrough family doing everything in their power to accommodate his useless ass, going so far as to build and install a ramp over the stairs on the porch.They knew the wheelchair was just until he healed well enough to be fitted for a prosthetic, but Bill’s dad had insisted on doing it.

“You really don’t have to do that, I can go in through the garage.”

“No, I want to,” Mr. Denbrough said. “I’ve always been a bit of a handyman, it’ll be a fun challenge for me, don’t worry!”

Eddie worried anyway. He was convinced that he’d become too much of a burden at some point and he would be out on his ass, and he couldn’t find it in himself to blame them if they did. He really was nothing but a burden so far, contributing nothing but screaming nightmares at one a.m. and a black cloud over his head at all times. It wasn’t like he didn’t know it was there, it was just that he had no idea how to get rid of it. For the love of fuck, he’d lost his mom  _ and _ his leg.

And his soulmate.

It had been two weeks since he’d woken up, and Chee still hadn’t responded to him. No matter how many times he wrote out a clumsy message with his unbroken hand, he always got absolutely nothing in response. 

He’d come to the conclusion that Chee had either given up on him or died. Eddie had done tons of research on soulmates in his time off of school, and his only thought was that Chee had died, though he wasn’t completely sure. The last words he’d written Chee had been on his calf, and with it gone, he couldn’t know for sure that the mark had been solidified. It was the only way he’d known for sure, but his leg was gone. Mangled in the crash, they said. 

To make himself feel a little better, he told himself that Chee had just ghosted him. It was easier to accept than a death, even though it was still painful as hell. He just wanted to be able to talk to his soulmate again. There was so goddamn much he needed to tell him, but it seemed that whatever powers that be refused to let that happen. 

Then there was the matter of school.

It had been four years since Eddie had been at a public school, and it was somewhat of a culture shock. Used to being able to lounge around home and just flip through his books whenever he felt like it was a big difference from having to get up at 7 every day and go actually pay attention when someone just talked at you for a solid seven hours. He was absolutely not used to it, and had decided that he fucking hated it. 

Richie fucking Tozier didn’t help at all. Eddie had no idea what god he’d pissed off, but they were apparently mad as all hell if it meant he was stuck with Richie for the rest of the school year. Not only that, but their final project in history was on  _ soulmates. _ Fucking soulmates. Of all the things they could have been assigned, it had to fucking be that. It was still a really sore spot, one that he wasn’t sure would ever stop hurting. He wasn’t sure how he’d explain his extensive knowledge on the subject to Richie, but he was trying to think of something. Eddie figured he’d just play dumb, it seemed like the most logical route. 

The problem was, Richie wasn’t a bad person or anything. He seemed like he genuinely was trying to help Eddie out, even going so far as to introduce him to all the rest of the Losers. Richie had respected everything Eddie had asked of him, if anything, Eddie was the one being an asshole. Fuck if he’d ever admit it, though. 

Truth was, Richie reminded him too much of Chee. In his mind, he’d always envisioned Chee as someone that looked something like Richie, and having to look at him was borderline painful. Eddie didn’t want to think of a lost love every time he looked at the person he was basically chained to, but he was stuck doing exactly that. It was just another thing he hated about school, and he was still trying to figure out how to make it bearable. He still hadn’t come up with any solutions. 

His mom would have gone batshit crazy if she’d seen her son back in public school, around all those damn germs and people. She barely let him stay on the track team as it was, it would have been a nightmare to explain to her. Even so, he wished she was there to make his life miserable. It wasn’t like Eddie wasn’t aware that she wasn’t the best parent, but that didn’t mean that he loved her any less for it. She put ideas in his head and he spent his childhood thinking he was sick because of her, but he’d figured it out, and they’d compromised. It took a lot, but she’d compromised for him, because she loved him.

Eddie would lay in bed at night and wish that his mom was there to kiss him good night the way she always did. It used to annoy the absolute hell out of him, but fuck if he didn’t miss it. He missed the way she’d fuss over him like he was a child, even if he used to hate it. When he was in the car with Bill, he missed the way she’d hum along to the shitty old cassette tapes she’d kept from when she was a teenager, just like him. She’d always sworn that she’d keep listening to them till the day she died, and he supposed she’d been right about that. 

Blinking tears away, Eddie brought his attention back to the present day. He’d been sitting by the bleachers waiting for track practice to be over so Bill could drive them both home for about an hour, and everything in him was spitting a jealous sort of hatred at each and every person on the team, Bill included. Two weeks and he could still feel his leg as if it were still there, to the point where he woke up in the mornings still thinking it was there sometimes. Those were the worst days, the ones where he had to relearn everything all over again. Those were the days he wondered why he’d survived in the first place. 

So he sat there, green with envy and wishing he was back on his feet, flying through the air once more. 

“Good thing he runs better than he talks, right?” 

Eddie started, jumping in his seat. Looking up, he found Stan looking out at the track, eyes fixed on Bill. “Mind if I sit?”

“Whatever,” He mentally kicked himself. Stan was just trying to be nice. They’d met twice and both times he’d been nothing but kind, he deserved better than a biting remark. Shooting him an apologetic look, Eddie was surprised to find an understanding smile. “Sorry. Yeah, go ahead and sit.”

“Thanks,” Sitting down next to him, Stan carefully set his backpack down in front of him and stared out at the track. “How’s things, Eddie?”

“Fine,” He said shortly, hoping he’d drop it. “Just waiting for Bill.”

“I like to wait for him too,” Stan said so fondly that it made Eddie’s heart hurt. “He’s always happy after practice.”

“Yeah,” Eddie ground out. “It’s great.”

Stan glanced down at his leg and seemed to realize why Eddie was annoyed, his ears turning pink. “How’s Richie?”

“Still a dick.”

“Unsurprising. Don’t worry, he gets better.”

“I don’t know about that. He reminds me of someone I really just want to forget,” Eddie thought of Chee for a second before banishing the thought from his head. He didn’t want to get into that right now.

“Well, he’s fucked,” Stan chuckled, laughing at a joke Eddie wasn’t in on. “Take it easy on him, he actually does like you.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it,” Eddie grumbled, picking at his cast.

“Yeah, because he’s an idiot.”

“Isn’t he your best friend?”

“Well, he’s  _ my  _ idiot,” Face lighting up, Stan pointed at the nearest tree. “See that?”

“See what?”

“The bluebird, right  _ there _ ,” Stan said, guiding Eddie’s gaze.

“It’s pretty.”

“Know what I do to pass the time when I’m waiting out here?” He asked, already rooting around in his backpack. 

“What?”

Pulling out a little bag, Stan offered it up to him. Looking inside, Eddie found it to be birdseed. “Grab some, we can feed them together.”

That small act of kindness was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Swallowing hard, Eddie took a handful and nodded at him. With a smile, Stan nodded back before bringing his hands to his lips and mimicking the bird’s song. 

“Throw some of it, let’s see how many are hungry today,” Tossing some of the birdseed in his hand, Eddie sat and waited to see what happened. “Now hold still.”

They sat quietly, not moving a muscle. It only took a minute before the bluebird hopped down to peck at it, letting out a song to call the rest of his flock down for dinner. Soon, another one joined him, followed by two or three more. It took no time at all for Stan and Eddie to be tossing seeds out at them, making sure they all had eaten their fill. 

“Thank you for this,” Eddie said quietly, right around the time they were running out of seeds.

“You can come over whenever you like,” Stan said. “I’ll bring an extra bag for you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” He repeated, because he really and truly did mean it. Eddie was thankful for this small kindness, this distraction. It was something that made his loss bearable, because for a while, he forgot that he couldn’t run anymore. 

Bill called out to them, catching their attention. Looking at Eddie, Stan raised a brow. “See you here tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie said happily. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious, what are your theories about what's going to happen next? I obviously have my storyline in mind, but I think it'd be super interesting to hear what you guys think is going to happen over the course of the fic. Drop a comment below, I wanna hear your thoughts!


	7. with a skip and a hop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your phone’s ringing.”
> 
> “No, I have the r-ringer up on mine”
> 
> “Then whose fucking phone is it?”
> 
> “Y-yours! Answer the d-d-damn thing already!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I really don't know jack shit about wheelchairs other than what google has told me, so my apologies if any or all of this is fuck-y

_ bzzt-bzzt _

__ “Your phone’s ringing.”

_ bzzt-bzzt _

“No, I have the r-ringer up on mine”

_ bzzt-bzzt _

__ “Then whose fucking phone is it?”

_ bzzt-bzzt _

“Y-yours! Answer the d-d-damn thing already!”

_ bzzt-bz- _

“Hello?” Eddie answered his new phone, courtesy of Sharon Denbrough. 

_ “Hey! Come over to mine, we have to work on that project!” _

__ “Who the fuck is this?”

_ “Aw, I can’t believe you don’t remember me, Eddie my love!” _

His blood caught fire, fury lancing through him. Bill looked over at him in concern, mouthing  _ are you okay? _ Giving him the thumbs up, Eddie tried his hardest not to crush the phone in his hands. 

“How the  _ fuck _ did you get this number?” Eddie growled.

_ “A little birdie stuttered it out to me.” _

__ “Bill, you’re so lucky you’re driving or I’d  _ kill  _ you right now,” He hissed, covering the microphone for a second. Uncovering it, he took a deep breath and set his jaw. “Why the fuck should I go over to your house?”

_ “Uh, because you want to graduate? Duh.” _

“A-are we going to Richie’s h-h-house?”

_ “Nope. Eddie is.” _

__ “He can’t even hear you, fucknuts,” Eddie sighed. “No, I’m going. Could you drop me off?”

“S-sounds good. Project shit?”

“Project shit,” He agreed. “Richie, I’ll be there in a bit.”

_ “Seeya then, Eds.” _

__ “My name isn’t- What the fuck, he hung up on me!”

“I w-wonder why,” Bill smirked playfully, nudging Eddie in the ribs. Eddie swallowed a yelp, his ribs still being tender as hell. “So, h-how do you l-l-like Richie?”

“I hate him, Bill.”

“W-why?”

“He’s loud and obnoxious and annoying as hell, and I guess...I guess he reminds me of Chee sometimes,” Eddie admitted reluctantly. “Like, his sense of humor and shit.”

“And?” Bill pressed, almost as if he knew there was more to it than that. 

“And I guess he looks like him too. Or what I thought he’d look like, at least,” Huffing, Eddie picked at a string on his shirt. “It’s driving me fucking crazy.”

“W-well you can’t blame the guy f-for looking like someone you l-love.”

Eddie smiled, a silent thanks for not using the past tense. “Watch me. Anyway, on top of it all, we have to do a fucking  _ project _ on soulmates.”

“Okay, that does s-s-suck,” Bill admitted, turning onto what Eddie assumed was Richie’s street. “Why don’t you just tell him?”

“About Chee? Fuck no. He’d make fun of me for having a soulmate that fucking  _ ghosted _ me.”

“I think he’d understand, he’s not that m-much of a dick,” Turning into a driveway, Bill put the car in park and looked over at Eddie. “He’s lost people too, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said shortly, cutting the conversation short. He wasn’t about to start talking about people he’d lost. “I should go.”

“L-let me help,” Bill said, as if Eddie had a say in the matter. 

It may have been two weeks, but getting Eddie out of the car into his wheelchair would never stop being awkward. They tried different positions, different methods, different  _ everything _ , but it was always awkward and weird and they both hated it. 

“I can get to the door on my own, don’t worry.”

“Do they have a porch step?”

“I don’t-”

“Big Bill!” Wincing, Eddie slowly turned towards the source of the obnoxiously loud voice. Richie was practically skipping towards them, goofy grin pasted on his face. “Eddie my love, how are you two?”

“Crippled,” Eddie deadpanned. “You?”

“Fully upright,” Richie didn’t miss a beat, not allowing Eddie’s attempt to kill his mood to affect him. “We still gotta put up those missing posters, by the way.”

“Right.”

“What?” Bill was oblivious to the inside joke, and actually looked somewhat horrified by Richie’s lack of a reaction to Eddie’s comment. “Am I m-missing something?”

“Nah, but he is.”

“Yeah, my leg,” Eddie quipped, laughing when Bill’s eyes grew impossibly wider. “It’s a joke, Bill. Heard of them?”

“Um,” Blinking hard, Bill threw them both a confused look and began to slowly back away towards the car. “O-okay. Have fun with your p-project. Text me when y-you want me to pick you up!”

“I can drop him off if you want me to?” Richie asked, looking from Eddie to Bill. 

“No. I want Bill to drive me,” He said firmly, tamping down the panic rising in his chest at the thought of anyone but a Denbrough driving him somewhere. “Not you.”

A product of the crash had been that he was now terrified of driving with most people. He’d never known many people to begin with, but now that he was at the age where everyone could drive, he couldn’t let anyone but the Denbrough family drive him places. He knew for a fact that it was inconvenient as hell for them, but they didn’t mind at all, as long as he was safe and okay, they would bend over backwards for him. They really had proven themselves to be like family to him. 

“Sounds good to me,” Richie’s face fell a bit, but Eddie couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad. “Anyway, seeya later Bill.”

“Does your porch have a step?” Eddie asked, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. He failed. 

“Yeah, but I can help you up.”

“The fuck you can. I’ll do it myself.”

Richie stopped next to him, glaring. “Dude, I get that you have to make sure I know you’re tough or whatever, but I’m not going to watch while you eat shit because of your stupid fucking pride.”

Blinking owlishly, Eddie stared up at Richie for a second. Nobody had talked to him like that since before the accident. It was a refreshing change of pace. 

“...Fine,” Eddie huffed. “But you’re not carrying me bridal style.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, princess.”

The porch was more intimidating than he’d expected, as it had not one, not two, but  _ three _ steps. Richie seemed to notice Eddie’s reluctance to come any closer, almost as if the stairs would bite him. 

“Come on, let’s get you up there. Mom put a rocking chair up there, you can sit in it while I get your wheelchair.”

“It folds weird, I should probably show you how…” Eddie trailed off, looking up at Richie. Why was he being so kind to him? “It’s okay, I’ll stand. Someone’s gotta show your stupid ass how to do it.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” Shrugging, Richie came over on his left side and put his arm around Eddie’s back. “Try to stand, think of it like a three legged race.”

“Hilarious,” Eddie said drily, trying not to laugh at the way Richie blanched. Hefting himself up, Eddie found himself at his regular height again. He tried not to think too hard about how badly he wanted his leg back. He couldn’t fucking wait until he got his prosthetic. 

“I didn’t- uh, I didn’t mean it like that, I swear,” Richie stammered out. 

“I know. Hurry and help me up, you’re tall and my arm’s gonna fall off if I stay like this too long.”

“Alright, you move your right leg and I’ll move mine, ready?” Eddie nodded. It really was like a three legged race, except there were literally only three legs in the picture. Richie moved his leg, and Eddie did the same. “Now I’m going to move my left one, you just stay put.” Eddie instinctively went to move his own leg, but quickly stopped himself and hoped to god that Richie hadn’t noticed the movement. He didn’t seem to have noticed, but then again, would he have said anything if he had? “Last step, Eds.”

“My name’s not Eds.”

“Whatever you say, Eduardo,” Walking up the last step, Richie stood there for a second and scoped out the porch before pointing at the railing. “You might get a splinter, but you can either hold onto that or sit down.”

“I’ll take the railing,” Eddie said without thinking twice. For the love of fuck, the least he could do was hold himself up. Leading him over, Richie made sure Eddie had a solid hold of the railing before hopping back down the stairs to Eddie’s wheelchair. “If you break that, I won’t hesitate to snap you in two.”

“No worries, I’ve got this,” Instead of even attempting to fold the wheelchair, like a normal person, Richie simply picked the whole thing up with a small grunt and lifted it up onto the porch. Eddie simply stared at him, wondering if he was actually cool or just didn’t want to figure out how to work the wheelchair. “See?”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Without thinking twice, Richie came up onto the porch and helped Eddie over to his chair without another word. Eddie was surprised, half expecting him to crack a joke or make a comment. “Is it cool if we work in the living room? My room is a fucking trainwreck right now.”

“Whatever, I really don’t give a fuck,” Richie opened the door for him, and both of them let out a breath when Eddie’s wheelchair safely made it through the doorframe. Wheeling himself in, he followed Richie into the living room, parking himself next to the couch. “Is it cool if I sit here?”

“Yeah, go ahead and sit wherever. Need any help?”

“I can fucking sit without needing help,” Eddie snapped, immediately regretting it. Throwing Eddie a look he couldn’t quite decipher, Richie shrugged and waved him off. It was just about time for an apology, but Eddie would rather die than apologize to Richie. 

“Whatever, dude. I’m gonna go grab my laptop.”

Before Eddie could respond, Richie was out of the room and...up the stairs. His room was upstairs? Eddie thought back to Richie using the excuse that his room was messy and took a second to really mull it over. Was his room actually messy or was he trying to avoid embarrassing Eddie by saying he couldn’t make it up there due to the stairs? Shaking his head, Eddie banished the thought from his head. Richie wasn’t that nice, especially not to him. 

He lifted himself up onto one wobbly leg and hopped onto the couch, leaning down to fold his chair. Leaning it up against the couch, he delved deep into his own thoughts. Escapism seemed to be his new coping mechanism.

“Hello there, who are you?”

Eddie jumped, immediately coming back to reality. A girl was leaning on the recliner, chin resting on her hand and a toothy grin on her face. Tall, with a smattering of freckles on her nose and curly black hair pulled back into a ponytail, Eddie could only assume that he was looking at Richie’s sister, as she looked far too young to be his mom. 

“Uh, I’m Eddie.”

“Oh, you’re the angry one,” She leaped over the side of the recliner and landed in a sitting position, putting her hand out for him to shake. “Nice to meetcha, I’m Sarah.”

“The angry one?” He shook her hand carefully, almost as if he was scared that she’d bite him. 

“You ran his foot over, right? He was limping around like an idiot earlier, it was hilarious,” She laughed, the bastard child of a giggle, a snort, and a wheeze. “I’m his older sister, by the way.”

“I ran his foot over?”

“Do you just ask questions or do you talk too?”

Frowning, Eddie tried to ignore the blush rising to his cheeks. “I can talk just fucking fine, thank you very much.”

“Please tell me you’re not annoying him,” Richie called out, catching both of their attentions and effectively saving Sarah from receiving Eddie’s wrath. “Seriously, he’s wound tight as it is, he doesn’t need your shit too, Sarah.”

“Aw come on, I was just messing with him a little.”

“Maybe  _ he _ doesn’t appreciate it,” Eddie seethed. Of course Richie’s sister would be just as annoying. “Did you consider that?”

“Sorry, kid,” She said, looking genuinely apologetic. “Didn’t mean to overstep.”

“We’re gonna be doing a project out here, so get your ass outta here,” Richie said, not a trace of venom in his voice. 

“Come on, let me stay out here. Pretty please, Chee?”

Eddie’s heart clenched at hearing the nickname. It felt like he’d gotten punched in the stomach, suddenly unable to breathe properly, if at all. 

“Sarah…” Richie sounded weird, almost choked up, but Eddie couldn’t bring himself to look up for fear of crying.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Richie, I meant Richie.”

“It’s all good. We really gotta study, though.”

“Yeah, I’ll just...I’ll get out of your way,” Sarah got up and was halfway to the stairs before she turned to look at Eddie one more time. “Sorry for annoying you, Eddie.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie said shortly. Looking up at Richie, Eddie found himself with a glare like no other fixed on him, one that very clearly communicated the message  _ Apologize or I’ll kill you _ . “I-I’m sorry for snapping at you, I’m just having a shit day.”

“Happens to the best of us, Edster!” Eddie practically rolled his eyes into the back of his skull. Really? He had to deal with  _ two _ people giving him fucking stupid nicknames? “Anyway, see you two later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

She bounded up the stairs, and he tried to ignore the jealousy that spiked through him. With a sigh, he did as his therapist told him to do and took a deep breath, trying to exhale all the negative energy he had. 

It didn’t work.

“So, that’s my sister,” Putting his laptop on the coffee table in front of them, Richie plopped down next to him. “Charming, ain’t she?”

“That’s one word for it.”

“Yeah, she can be...a lot.”

“She’s a lot like you,” Eddie said flatly. 

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” He waved it off, quickly changing the subject. “Why don’t you like her calling you Chee?”

“She used to call me that when I was a kid and I don’t like it anymore,” Richie said. It sounded rehearsed, almost robotic, but Eddie didn’t know exactly what was off about it. Narrowing his eyes, he fixed Richie with a piercing stare. Richie didn’t budge, his face remaining stoic. “So I correct her whenever she calls me that. Why?”

“Just curious. It’s a cute nickname.”

“I guess. I just don’t like it.”

Eddie dropped it, but his heart ached. He missed Chee, more than words could describe. Eddie missed him, and there was nothing he could do to get him back. Making a mental note to write a message for Chee on himself later on, he turned his attention back to Richie. 

There was an awkward silence, one where neither of them seemed to be able to figure out where to go with the conversation from there. Both he and Richie seemed to be incompatible with each other, and the fact that Eddie had to spend basically all his time with him from now on was less than ideal. Okay, it was more that Eddie was incompatible with Richie. He’d never liked Richie, and he wasn’t about to start now. Richie seemed different from the previous two times they’d met. He seemed sad, but maybe that was just Eddie seeing things. Either way, Eddie didn’t like what he saw. 

“So…” Richie finally broke the silence, leaning forward to open his laptop. “Let’s get started on the project.”

“Whatever.”

“Alright, Stan and I already had a fuckton of notes on this shit, so it shouldn’t be too hard,” Focusing on the screen, Richie tapped the keypad a few times before turning to look at Eddie with a sheepish grin. “Okay, so,  _ Stan _ already had a fuckton of notes on this shit.”

“And you have…?”

“I have to ask him to send the research over. Hopefully he will, but in the meantime, we should do some research on our own.”

“Greeeaaaat,” Eddie deadpanned. “How long ‘till I can go home?”

“Give it an hour and we can call it quits.”

“Fine. One hour.”

Three hours later found Eddie sprawled out on the couch and Richie sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, reading yet another boring-ass bullshit article on soulmates. 

“How the  _ fuck _ did Stan manage to get any actual information on this shit?” Richie griped, scrolling through the eighth page of the google search results. 

“Did he go to an actual library?” Eddie said tiredly. “Maybe he has books.”

“Wait- I think I found something.”

“What? What did you find?”

“An old study they did back in the 1800s, but it’s in Italian. There’s a translation, but I don’t know how reliable it is. I do know that there were a fuck of a lot more cases of soulmates back then than there are now, so it could be worth a shot?”

“Read it to me.”

“ _ ‘The natural phenomenon known as soul bonds are seeming to die off, or rather, lessen with each passing generation. It is believed that this is directly related to people without soul bonds procreating, but there is no solid evidence that that is the case…” _ Richie stopped, scanning the screen and stopping at another point. “ _ A recent plague that has taken many of those in the city has proven deadlier than originally believed. We have made a definite connection that those with a soul bond have a higher chance of death if their mate dies as well. The closer the two bonded persons are, the more severe the consequences of the soul bond being severed. Usually, this ends in…” _ Gulping, Richie took a deep breath before continuing. “ _ Usually, this ends in death.” _

_ Then how the fuck am I alive? _ Eddie thought. If Chee really had died, then wouldn’t he have died too? At the very least, he would have felt it. The more he thought about it, the more distressed he became, because it all led him to the same conclusion. 

_ Chee left me. _

“You know what? This is fucking stupid,” Eddie snapped, cutting Richie off before he could continue with whatever fucking bullshit article he’d found. “This thing’s not due until the last week of May, why the fuck do we have to start it now?”

“Because I like to be ahead in my classes, that’s why,” Scoffing, Eddie shook his head in disbelief. Richie’s brows drew together, the laughter leaving his eyes and being replaced with anger. “What the fuck are you laughing at? What’s funny?”

“You like being ahead in your classes? Aren’t you the one fucking  _ failing _ everything?” Eddie sneered.  _ Chee left me, Chee left me.  _ “That’s cute, Richie.”

“Excuse me? You don’t fucking know anything about me, who the hell are you to judge?” Richie was flushed with anger, and he pushed himself up off the floor. “You can go fuck yourself, Eddie.”

“Not my fault you’re bad at school,” He mocked. “What would you have done if I hadn’t come along? Failed?”

“Fuck. You.” 

And suddenly, all 6’1” of Richie was towering over him, taller than he’d ever be. He felt very small, eyes going wide and panic rising in his chest. 

_ Chee left Chee left Chee left _

Scrambling to sit up, to get some height back, Eddie nearly fell off the couch. “No, fuck you. I can’t believe I have to be stuck with some fucking dumbass who can’t even finish his last year of school.”

There was fear in his eyes, he could feel it, and somehow, so could Richie. Taking a furious breath, he sat down so he was eye level with Eddie. He suddenly wished Richie was standing again, because he really didn’t want to see the tears tracking down his cheeks. 

“It’s not my fault, I didn’t fucking do it on purpose, you asshole,” Richie yelled in his face, absolutely livid. “You’re not the only one who’s lost people, you fucking know that? You’re not goddamn special!”

“Oh yeah? Who the fuck did you lose? What did you lose?”

“I lost someone I fucking loved, Eddie. He died and I’m never going to fucking see him again, do you understand that? Or can you not comprehend the idea of someone other than you having problems?”

“I-I...I’m,” At a loss, he was left stammering like an idiot, not sure how to get himself out of the hole he’d dug for himself. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? Well so am I!” Richie shouted, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Fucking call Bill and get your ass out of my house.”

“Richie-”

“If you don’t text or call him, I will.”

Quietly, Eddie reached for his phone and shot Bill a text.

_ SOS come pick me up right now please _

“Richie, I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you, dude. Where the hell did that even come from?” Richie asked, sniffling. “We were fine and then you’re calling me stupid? What the fuck?”

“You’re not stupid.”

“I know I’m not! You wanna fucking know something about me, Eddie?” Richie didn’t bother waiting for an answer, but Eddie nodded anyway. “I’ve always been a straight A student. I’m fucking  _ smart _ . The odds of me beating your ass on a test are high, as long as I study beforehand. I don’t always get shit right away, but when I do, I’m  _ good at it. _ I look and act like an idiot, but I’m not.”

“Then why-”

“I’m not done talking yet!” Richie cut him off again. “I lost someone and having someone you love die is apparently traumatic and can cause depression. Did you know that, Eds?” Eddie nodded slowly. “I fucking figured you would. I thought,  _ hey, maybe this kid will have some empathy. Maybe he’ll understand what’s going on,  _ but I was wrong. So, fuck you.”

In this situation, Eddie’s first response would be to get up and run away, but he couldn’t do that. Which left him the next best option: panic over the fact that he couldn’t get away. 

“I can’t fucking breathe,” Eddie gasped, breathing raggedly. “I can’t- I-I can’t fucking  _ breathe.” _

“Eds?” Richie asked, catching him when he slid off the couch. “Holy shit, Eddie? Breathe, dude. Deep breaths.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, yeah, I gotcha, but can you please breathe before apologizing? Seriously, please.”

“I can’t-”

“You can. Breathe in with me, baby,” Richie inhaled deeply, and Eddie followed suit. “Now breathe out, like this.”

Richie did that a few times, making sure Eddie was breathing properly before he stopped. He stroked Eddie’s hair, and it reminded Eddie of the way his mom would play with his hair when he’d fall asleep on her lap on Saturday nights while she watched Jeopardy. 

“I’m sorry, Richie. I didn’t mean any of that,” Eddie whispered, not wanting to speak too loudly for fear of ruining this moment. “I lost it and it wasn’t fair to you.”

“You’re damn right it wasn’t fair to me. What the hell was that?”

“I just remembered something and I took it out on you.”

“Well...I forgive you. Just don’t do that, don’t do shit like that.”

“Yeah. Okay, Richie,” Pausing, Eddie remembered something Richie had said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Richie’s hand stilled for a moment before continuing to mess with his hair. “Me too. He was a good person.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“No, you can’t,” Richie said, voice devoid of emotion. Somehow, that was worse than him sounding sad. 

“Sorry.”

Waving him off, Richie sighed. “Need me to help you up?”

“Yeah, probably. Thanks for helping me out.”

“No problem, panic attacks are a bitch.”

Even having said that, they made no move to get up, and neither of them seemed to be complaining about it. It was comfortable, and Eddie tried not to think too hard about why this was happening with a guy he didn’t even like. He told himself he was just affection starved. Yeah, that was it.

_ bzzt-bzzt _

“Is that your phone?” Richie asked. 

“Yeah, probably Bill,” Checking his phone, he found that it was, in fact, Bill. 

_ out front, come on out. you ok? _

__ “He’s here.”

“Let’s get you in your chair,” Richie lifted Eddie up onto the couch and looked around, seemingly at a loss when he couldn’t find what he was looking for. “Uh, where is it?”

“It’s next to the recliner, just folded up.”

“I totally knew that,” Unfolding the wheelchair, Richie brought it over and unceremoniously dropped Eddie into it. He couldn’t really complain, not after he’d been that much of an asshole to Richie. “You got all your stuff?”

“Yeah, I think I’m good.”

They didn’t talk much on their way out. Eddie didn’t really know what to say, even after the apologies. He’d completely snapped on Richie over something that he’d already known, and he’d hurt a potential friend due to his lack of self control. 

“Hey, Richie? I just wanted to say I’m-”

“I already forgave you, dude. Stop beating yourself up over it, I’m over it,” Richie interrupted, stopping them right before the porch steps. “Let’s focus on getting you down these stairs.”

They went through the same process they had on their way up, except this time, Eddie actually did get a splinter from the railing. 

“Ouch, fuck.”

“Told you to sit in the rocking chair.”

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie said halfheartedly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Bright and early. Can’t wait for English first thing in the morning,” Richie grumbled, still bitter over the schedule change.

Eddie wheeled himself over to Bill’s car before stopping and turning back around once more. “Hey, Richie?”

“Hm?”

“Bookmark that article.”

“Will do, Eddie my love.”

With that, Eddie made his way to Bill’s car. He tried not to think of Chee, and he especially tried not to think of the betrayal he felt. 

Despite what he’d learned, Eddie still couldn’t wait to go home and write out the events of the day on his thigh. Just in case Chee changed his mind. Just in case. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter wasn't too boring, but hey, we needed some character development and bonding, even if it's not the good kind of bonding.


	8. Skipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie found himself face-to-face with his sister the moment he walked back into the house, looking completely baffled and pretty damn worried. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place directly after chapter 7! 
> 
> NOTE: Richie's text is in italics, while Eddie's is in bold.

Richie found himself face-to-face with his sister the moment he walked back into the house, looking completely baffled and pretty damn worried. 

“What the fuck was that, Richie?” Sarah asked, looking over his shoulder at the door. “What happened?”

“Just a stupid argument. The kid’s fucked up, he just blew up over nothing.”

“What do you mean fucked up?”

“Do you ever stop asking questions?” Richie sighed, frowning as he thought back to what Eddie had said. “His mom died in a car crash and he lost his leg. I’m pretty sure he just represses the fuck out of it, but he’s a little ball of anger.”

“Shit, that sucks.”

“Understatement of the fucking century,” Pursing his lips, he sighed again, trying to breathe out all the anger still living in his chest. “Hey, Sarah?”

“What’s up, Richie-Rich?”

“Am I stupid? Like, honestly.”

“Hell no you’re not. Did he fucking call you stupid?” Sarah seethed. “I’m not afraid to fight an amputee.”

“He blew up over nothing and was trying to get a reaction. It worked, but he went for the goddamn throat.”

“You’re not stupid. Stan can confirm that shit too, you’re smart as hell and anyone who tells you different is just an asshole.” 

“Thanks. Love you,” Before she had a chance to respond, Richie was going up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Somehow, even after falling and breaking his arm, he still hadn’t found it in himself to respect stairs properly. He slipped and nearly fell again at the top, earning the stairs a panicked yelp. 

“You okay?”

“Fine, thanks!” He yelled down, glaring at the stairs. Getting a proper foothold, he made it the rest of the way up the stairs and ran into his room. Slamming the door, he made sure it was locked before flopping down face down on his bed and screaming as loudly as he could.

Richie screamed for a lot of things, but mostly, he screamed for his soulmate. He’d been avoiding that topic mentally, making damn sure he didn’t think of that. It was difficult, but it had worked so far. Well, it had worked until Eddie had decided to dredge up all of the pain and fury he’d buried deep inside of himself, all at once. It was a miracle that he hadn’t completely broken down, though he was embarrassed that he’d shed some tears. He wasn’t used to not being able to keep them safe for later, but Eddie had somehow managed to bring out every bad thing all at once. 

Somewhere inside, he was completely aware that he wasn’t stupid. Unfortunately, he’d spent most of his life having people call him that, instilling the thought that hey, maybe he actually was an idiot. Maybe he wasn’t good enough, and maybe that was why nobody liked him. Logically, he knew that was wrong, but he couldn’t help but be insecure about it.

Maybe it was too much time hearing _“go die, you stupid fag”_ from all his not so friendly peers, or it could be that Sarah was always better than him at everything, or possibly the fact that everything always took him so damn long to understand. It could be anything, leaving him a frustrated mess. He wished there was just one isolated incident he could pinpoint and quickly get over. Instead, he was left overthinking the hell out of everything. 

Part of it, he could chalk up to exhaustion. He hadn’t been sleeping well since Spaghetti had passed. Richie was too used to talking to him until he fell asleep, leaving him unable to get a wink of sleep. It had already been a month, and he still hadn’t gotten used to not having his soulmate there at night. Or at all, really. 

He was thinking way too hard about the argument with Eddie. The kid was nothing to him, just another insignificant classmate. Of course, he was tethered to this insignificant classmate for the rest of the semester, but still. There was no reason for him to be this upset over a spat with a virtual stranger. 

_Spaghetti never would have called me stupid, Not like that, at least._

Richie sniffled, wondering when he’d started crying. It was a quiet sort of cry, the kind where tears silently slip down your cheeks and drip drip drip to the floor, tiny dewdrops of sadness and pain. He hated it, because you never realized when it was happening until it was too late. 

It was cloudy outside, the sky already beginning to rumble. Richie frowned, thinking of the day he lost Spaghetti. 

He hadn’t expected it, he didn’t think anyone had. It was so unexpected, and so damn _painful_. Richie liked to think he had a relatively good pain tolerance from all the times he’d had the shit beaten out of him, but he’d never felt a pain like that before. Well, he supposed it would hurt when the person you’re meant to be with is torn away from you. Sometimes he wondered how exactly Spaghetti had died, but other times he thought that maybe he didn’t really need to know. What good would it do him?

The light was beginning to dim, the world notifying him that it was late. Not late enough to sleep yet, mind you, but late. He checked the clock and sighed when he read that it was only 10. Richie took a moment to wish that it was later, but he quickly pushed that thought from his head and tugged his clothes off and put on a ratty old t-shirt in place of pajamas. A thought occurred to him, leading him to grab his phone and dive into bed. 

Scrolling through his older photos, he came upon pictures of his legs, arms, torso, chest, everywhere, all of them full of conversations between him and Spaghetti. He still didn’t have the resolve to go back and read through all of them, but there was one specific conversation he was looking for. 

Finding it brought a sad smile to Richie’s face. It was from just a week or two before they’d confessed, and it still made his heart soar. There wasn’t anything particularly special about it, but it was just so _them_ that he couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes as he read through it.

**Hey.**

_hey yourself_

**I don’t feel good.**

_what’s going on spaghetti man_

**Just got into a fight with my mom**

**I went out after track with my best friend and apparently that’s the end of the fucking world**

_did you not tell her or something_

**No, I forgot. That’s on me.**

**But she didn’t have to call the fucking police**

_holy shit she called the cops????_

**Yeah, I got home and found them at the door**

**They’d just gotten there and looked really fucking pissed that she called them there for nothing**

**She made it sound like I was a little kid that wandered off to who the fuck knows where but I’m literally seventeen and fucking know what the hell I’m doing**

_hey its okay you gotta chill out or youre gonna give yourself an anyurism_

_anureasm?_

_anyourism_

**Aneurysm, dumbass**

_i knew that_

_she was just looking out for you but that was kinda over the top_

**I’m just tired of her treating me like a little kid**

_i get that_

_it sounds like it really sucks_

**It fucking does**

_hey let me cheer you up_

**How the fuck are you gonna cheer me up**

_send me your ten favorite songs and ill send you mine_

**How is that supposed to cheer me up????**

_ooooh spaghettis abusing the question marks_

_youre really pissed huh_

**Observant**

_music lets you know a lot about people_

_let me get to know you better_

_trust me itll be fun_

**Fine. You’re not allowed to make fun of my music though.**

_youre totally allowed to make fun of mine_

They’d exchanged their playlists and had a hell of a fun time, critiquing each other’s taste in music. In the end, it turned out that they liked their little playlists. Apparently it was difficult to not like something the person you’re in love with made for you.

Wiping tears from his face, Richie scrolled to the music app on his phone and flipped through his playlists before finding it. 

_Spaghetti’s songs <3 <3 <3 _

He didn’t even bother getting his headphones out before pressing play, letting the music float through the air and envelop him like a warm hug. Sniffling, he curled up in bed with his phone in hand, letting his eyes slip shut to focus on the music. It was like he’d gone back in time and was just waiting for his skin to tingle the way it always did when Spaghetti wrote him. Instead, he was left with the brand on his leg. He banished that thought from his head and tried to focus entirely on the music.

As the music played, his breathing evened out before he slipped into a deeper sleep than he had in a while. 

__________

_“What’s that on your arm, sweetie?” Maggie asked, trying to catch a peek at Richie’s arm. They were all gathered together at the breakfast table, munching on toast and sipping at their coffee. “Are you drawing on yourself again?”_

_“I literally haven’t touched a pen since yesterday and have no idea what you’re talking about, Ma.”_

_“Uh, I hate to break it to you, but you’ve got dicks all over your arm, Richie-Rich,” Sarah giggle-snorted into her orange juice._

_“What the fuck?” Richie held his arm up in front of him and sure enough, it was covered in cartoon dicks that had decidedly not been there five minutes ago. “I didn’t draw these.”_

_“Sarah, did you have anything to do with this?” Maggie asked, trying to tamp down a laugh. Wentworth, however, let out a huge belly laugh at the sight of Richie’s arm. “And you watch your mouth, Richie.”_

_“Sorry Ma. I have no idea where these came from.”_

_“I didn’t do it!” Sarah exclaimed. “Cross my heart and hope to die!”_

_“Sure you didn’t,” Rolling his eyes, Richie’s mind went into overdrive. He had a theory to test. “I’m done with breakfast, I’m gonna go upstairs and shower this shit off of me.”_

_He kissed his parents on the cheek and thanked them for breakfast, quietly flipping Sarah the bird when she grabbed his arm to get a closer look._

_He took the stairs two at a time, nearly slipping and falling near the top._ **_Damn stairs_ ** _, He thought to himself._ **_I’m gonna fucking kill myself on them one of these days._ ** _Waving his own thought off, he speedwalked to his bathroom before hopping into the shower and beginning to scrub at his arm._

_Just as he had suspected, the drawings didn’t budge. He didn’t bother scrubbing too hard, somehow knowing that they weren’t going anywhere until the powers that be decided to get rid of them. It was pure luck that it was the weekend, because it was far too warm to wear a long sleeved shirt, and god knows what people would say about him if they saw his arms. His classmates already called him a fag, he didn’t need something like this to fuel the fire. Once he got out of the shower he made sure to snap a picture of it, in case he needed to show Stan._

_They disappeared somewhere around noon, leaving his arm bare once more. He’d been keeping his eye on his arm this whole time, and it was a trip to see the marks slowly fade into nothing. This had happened a select few times before, some weird writing popping up on his skin, but never something this big. He remembered a phone number scrawled on his hand a few years ago, thinking that this probably had something to do with that._

_That should have been the last of it, but his mind refused to drop it. It was days before he finally gave in and snatched up the first pen he could find, neatly printing a word onto his forearm._

_Hello?_

_He hadn’t told Stan about it yet, as he’d likely just think Richie was joking. Plus, he wasn’t even sure if he’d get a response at all. Why was he even waiting on a response? It had probably just been Sarah pulling a prank on him._

_Except, Sarah was a terrible liar. She would have given it away the moment Mom had called her out on it._

_He’d read about stuff like this in books, the really cheesy romantic ones he’d check out when nobody was looking. This was the kind of thing that only happened to soulmates, but those were just a myth. At least, that’s what everyone thought. There was historical evidence that they’d existed, and every so often he’d hear about something like that happening somewhere in the world. So, maybe not a myth, but rare as all hell._

_One time he’d read a soulmates book that had been hidden away in the deep recesses of the library shelves, one that was different from the rest. The two main characters were boys, and it made his heart leap with joy. Richie hadn’t been entirely sure why at the time, but now he recognized that feeling as gratefulness at being validated. The two boys could write on each other and it would show up on their skin, and it was possibly the coolest thing Richie had ever heard of._

_So, maybe he was expecting a response. Maybe he was wondering if he was one of the lucky few that had a soulmate. Maybe he was even hoping to be one of those people. He was pulled out of his daydream by a tickle on his arm, absentmindedly scratching at it before doing a double take._

**Hello?**

_It only took one little word to change Richie’s entire life. There was about a week of him talking to his new friend before he told Stan, who was absolutely baffled by the idea of it, yet still showed interest and excitement at the sight of the words appearing on his skin. Sarah had found out relatively quickly, mainly due to the fact that Richie had been using her pen for the first few days, and she was absolutely psyched about it._

_He didn’t tell anyone about the soulmates thing. Not even Spaghetti, who he was pretty sure was his soulmate. It ate away at him and turned his insides to mush as he fell deeper and deeper in love with Spaghetti. He was completely aware that the nickname was stupid, and that he acted like a total idiot with him, but he couldn’t help it. This was his soulmate he was talking about, how the hell was he supposed to act normal?_

_Then Spaghetti heard about soulmates, and suddenly, his life was ten times better. Richie finally had his soulmate, and he had someone to share all the love he held inside of him. God knew he had so much to give. He gave love every day, with every word he wrote and every breath he took. He loved with all his heart, waiting for the day they could figure out a way to meet. He loved, he loved, he loved._

_And then Spaghetti was dead. That was it. There was no more to the story._

__________

He was not pleased to go to English first thing in the morning. Actually, he’d completely forgotten about it in the first place, leaving him racing from what used to be his morning Physics class over to his new English class. Richie hated changes in his school schedule, and he especially hated when they were due to a neurotic little douchebag. Ducking into the classroom, he tried to ignore the glare from Mr. Fazio as he made a beeline for his seat next to Eddie. Damn him for having to sit in the front row. 

Now, Mr. Fazio tolerated him on a good day, but it seemed that today was not a good day. His eyes narrowed to slits, his gaze practically burning a hole in Richie’s head. If looks could kill, Richie would be six feet under and already decomposing. 

“Welcome, Mr. Tozier. How nice of you to join us.”

“Glad you’re so happy to see me!” Richie laughed, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. He may have been the class clown, but lately he just hadn’t been in the mood. Not to mention, he hated being put on the spot. It always made him say the stupidest things. “Now, let’s get to learnin’!”

The teacher set his jaw and huffed like an angry bull, but thankfully dropped it. Richie never thought he’d see that much anger stuffed in such a small body, yet here he was looking right at a scrawny man with coke bottle glasses that was fully ready to throttle him. With a sigh, Richie slumped forward in his chair and lay down on his desk. One thing he knew for sure was that Mr. Fazio didn’t really care if you fell asleep in class, so long as you didn’t snore, so Richie was fully ready to take a nap. That is, before someone jabbed him in the ribs with their elbow. Richie yelped, earning himself another glare from the teacher. Furrowing his brow, Richie turned to find Eddie giving him the exact same look.

“You’re really going to be sleeping?” Eddie hissed. “Dude, pay attention so you can get your grade up!” 

“Shut the hell up, I know what I’m doing. Let me sleep, asshole,” Richie snapped. He was still annoyed about the argument yesterday, and was not at all ready for Eddie to tell him how to study for school. “English is my best subject, so fuck off.”

“You’re supposed to be _helping me_. I have no idea what’s going on!”

“Have you read Twelfth Night?”

“By Shakespeare? Yeah, duh.”

“Then you’re fine, we’re halfway through that,” Richie dug around in his bag and pulled out his copy of the play. “Here, knock yourself the fuck out. Now let me sleep.”

“Whatever.”

“Usually, people say thanks,” Richie sniped. 

“ _Thanks_ ,” Eddie drawled, dripping with sarcasm and annoyance. 

Turning his attention back to his nap, Richie lay his head down and allowed himself to drift off. He’d slept like shit last night, as he’d opted to stay up looking through old conversations instead. It had been worth it, but now he was stuck in a classroom way too early for his liking. He took a moment to curse his past self for not being more considerate of his current, very exhausted self. 

Last night’s dreams had consisted of memories, and while they were all good, they were also something that he didn’t want to get into right now. Or at all, really. Spaghetti’s death was still too fresh, like a wound that still hadn’t scabbed over, and one that certainly hadn’t even come close to healing. Yet, his mind seemed fixed on him, and there was nothing Richie could really do about his subconscious. 

It was far too short a nap before someone poked him in the ribs, waking him up immediately. He yelped, glaring at the source of the poke. Of course it was Eddie. Of fucking course. 

“What do you want?” Richie tried to snap, but it came out tiredly and was cut off by a yawn the size of Texas. 

“Class is over. Let’s go.”

“Hey, we should skip,” He said, hoping to god that Eddie would agree with him. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“Where would we even go?” Eddie asked. At least it wasn’t an outright no. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive me anywhere.”

“Aw, why not? I’m a good driver, I swear.”

“I’m not going anywhere unless Bill’s driving.”

“Fine, let’s bring Bill along,” Speaking of, Bill was making a beeline towards them in the hallway. “Big Bill! Come skip with us!”

“S-s-sure, just get me out of h-here,” Bill stuttered out, looking behind his shoulder. “I think I p-pissed Bowers off.”

“The guy with the boxers?” Eddie asked. “I almost forgot about him. Wasn’t he older than you guys?”

“He got held back, _shockingly_ enough,” Richie said, already walking towards the exit. “So now we get to deal with the threat of having our asses kicked for our senior year, too. Great, amirite?”

“Okay then, looks like we’re going,” Eddie grumbled, going ahead of Bill and Richie, straight out the school doors. “Hurry up, I can’t believe I’m missing a leg and still faster than you both.”

“Are y-you okay, Eddie?” Catching up to him, Bill threw his friend a worried look. He did seem wound a little tighter today, Richie noted. He took a moment to wonder what happened before shrugging it off. Who cared? Not him, that’s for sure. “You s-seem a little...off.”

“Fuck off, Bill. I’m fine. Where’d you park your car?”

Richie knew where Bill parked every day and took the chance to wordlessly walk ahead of Eddie directly to the car, just to piss him off. He almost called shotgun before taking mercy on the pipsqueak. Pulling on the door handle repeatedly, Richie let out an annoyed groan. 

“Biiiiiiilllllllll, unlock the dooooooooor!” He continued pulling the handle until Bill took out the key fob and unlocked it, rolling his eyes and sighing. 

“You’re s-so fucking impatient,” Bill grumbled, following Eddie around to the passenger side of the hulking minivan.

Getting Eddie in the car looked awkward, and while Richie would have helped, the evil eye Eddie gave him sent out a clear message: Don’t. So he did what any good samaritan would do. He kept watch for any staff that may catch them and waited for them to be done. 

“We good?” Richie asked as Bill slid into the driver’s seat, Eddie safely in his seat and wheelchair stowed in the trunk. 

“Y-yep, we’re good.”

“Where to, Billy Boy?”

“Let’s go get something to eat, I’m hungry,” Eddie piped up. “Like, _starving._ ”

“It’s literally not even ten yet.”

“I t-t-told you not to skip breakfast,” Bill scolded.

“I’m not used to public school yet!” Eddie exclaimed. “Usually I can just go to the kitchen and grab something to eat, but you guys are on a timer? Fuck that.”

“Taco Bell.”

“What?” Bill and Eddie asked in unison.

“We should go get Taco Bell,” He declared.

“I’ve never actually been there,” Eddie said, daring Richie to make fun of him.

“Seriously? That’s it, we’re going. Fire up Big Bertha, Bill!”

“You’re so f-fucking weird, R-Richie.”

Regardless of Richie’s weirdness, Bill did indeed fire up the car and tried as best he could to slip out of the parking lot as quietly as possible. None of them wanted to risk getting caught, and all three of them knew that they could easily have their parents excuse their absences as long as they chalked it up to a mental health day.

The ride there was short, yet Richie somehow managed to irritate the hell out of Eddie regardless. Punching him lightly in the arm at every out of state plate he saw, he reveled in the fact that Eddie looked like he was about to tear his face off. He sang along to whatever Taylor Swift song was on the radio, and hummed to ones he didn’t know, though he sounded like a tone deaf raccoon. 

“Will you _please_ shut up? Like, I am literally begging you right now. _Literally,”_ Eddie begged as they turned into the Taco Bell drive thru. 

“No can do, Eds. It’s just who I am,” He said dramatically, putting his hand over his heart and pretending to sniffle away tears. “I can’t believe you can’t accept me the way I am. This is homophobia, Eddie. Bill, he’s being homophobic!”

“Wh- Homophobic? Dude, I’m literally gay what the fuck do you mean homophobic you’re a total fucking idiot and I _hate_ you.”

“R-Richie…” Bill warned.

“You’re gay?” Richie asked, honestly kind of shocked that his gaydar had failed him so miserably.

“What, do you have a problem with it, dickwad?”

“Obviously not seeing as I’m gay too?”

Eddie stumbled over his words, not getting out a coherent sentence before he gave up and chose to simply glare at Richie. Opening his mouth to say something else, he was quickly shushed by Bill.

“Sh-shut up and let me order our food, alright? You c-can flirt with each other later.”

“ _What?”_ Eddie wheezed. 

“Shut up!” Bill insisted. 

A tinny voice rang out over the speaker asking Bill for his order, and Bill somehow managed to place their whole damn order without stuttering once. He kept his voice slow and steady and won the whole damn race. Richie grinned. It was the first time Bill had ever managed to do that, and he couldn’t help but be proud of his friend.

“Guys, I d-did it!” 

“I’m proud of you, Bill. That was so fucking good!” Eddie said, grinning. He looked to Richie for encouragement, not a trace of animosity on his face. 

“I knew you had it in you, Big Bill.”

He breezed through paying for the food and picking it up at the order window, his words clear and unbroken. The smile on his face was unrivaled, it was the smile of someone who’d knocked something off their bucket list and hoped to do it again.

“Eddie is legally required to get the first taco, since he’s never had one before.”

“Uh…” Bill handed Eddie a taco, and he looked down at it like he’d just been handed a grenade about to go off. “Do I have to?”

“You s-said you were hungry.”

“I think I might be allergic to this,” Eddie said flatly, unwrapping it and staring at it from every angle. “This might kill me.”

“How the fuck would you know? You haven’t even taken a bite yet!”

“I just _know_ , okay?”

“For the love of fuck, just _eat it_ ,” Richie groaned as an idea occurred to him. “Unless you’re too much of a pussy to do it.”

He knew immediately that he’d said the perfect thing, a flame lighting in Eddie’s eyes. Looking down at the taco, Eddie set his jaw and took a bite. Chewing slowly, Richie and Bill watched him with bated breath. His eyes slipped shut and he let out a borderline pornographic moan. 

“What the _fuck?_ ” Eddie asked after swallowing. “Why the hell have I never had this before?”

“Dunno, but did you like it?”

He was answered with the sound of Eddie taking another huge bite, chewing with a smile on his face. Richie took a moment to think that he liked the way Eddie looked when he smiled. Frowning, he banished the thought from his head. Reminding himself that Eddie was actually a huge prick, Richie helped himself to a taco. 

Bill went around behind the Taco Bell and parked, where he turned on the radio and they all dug in. The happiness of three teenage boys eating shitty tacos instead of going to school was unrivaled, and this was no exception. It took them no time at all to finish off their food, leaving them to sing along to the radio and laugh along to Richie’s bad jokes. Hell, even Eddie was laughing, and he hated Richie. 

“Hey, so, what do you call a line of rabbits hopping backwards?”

“I don’t know, what?” 

“A- holy fuck.”

“A holy fuck?” Eddie asked, confused. “Nice one, Rich.”

“No, look,” Richie pointed past him, somewhere outside of the car. Both Eddie and Bill followed his finger to see a couple making out up against the service door behind the building. “That’s fucking Bowers.”

Under any other circumstances, that would have been normal. But these weren’t any other circumstances. In this case, Bowers wasn’t with any old girl. In fact, he wasn’t with a girl at all.

“Is th-that H-Hockstetter?” Bill said, voice hitting a pitch Richie hadn’t heard before. “Holy shit, we need to leave.”

“What’s the big deal? It’s just some bully,” Eddie said, annoyed. “Why should we have to leave just so he can hook up with some guy?”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Eduardo,” Richie said, a note of panic in his voice. “Those two are the meanest guys at school, and I really like not having my nose broken by them. Bill, let’s _go_.”

“But it’s not even a big deal!”

“It is to him, Edster. Bill, if you don’t get our asses out of here right now, I’m going to drive us myself!”

“S-sorry, just t-trying to process.”

“Process later, move your ass now,” Richie hissed, patting Bill on the back a bit too hard. “Let’s _go_ , Billiam.”

“ _Billiam?_ ” Eddie echoed, dripping with sarcasm. 

“Shut up, I’m nervous,” He said, throwing Eddie a glare. “Bill! Fucking move!”

The car started, sounding a hell of a lot louder than it usually did. You could hear a pin drop inside of the car, all three of the boys leaning down in the hopes that Bowers wouldn’t see them if he was suddenly distracted from sticking his hand down Hockstetter’s pants.

“Gross, I never wanted to see that.”

“J-j-join the club.”

They moved as quickly as possible, but still somehow managed to catch Bowers’ attention. From the front seat, Eddie squeaked and let out a wheezy breath. Shoving Hockstetter away from him, Bowers started towards the car.

“Guys, he saw me. He’s coming for the car, Bill _go_ ,” Eddie urged, grabbing Bill by the shoulder.

“Eddie, sh-shut up!” He was trying to make it out of the parking lot, but there were too many cars coming for him to safely get the hell out of there. “Oh m-my god we’re going to d-d-die.”

As soon as he said that, a heavy hand slammed down on Eddie’s window, eliciting an honest to god scream from everyone in the car. Bowers knocked on the window, motioning for them to roll the window down. Seeing equal parts fury and fear in his eyes, Bill decided to save their asses and leave the window up.

“I’m going to kill you guys,” Bowers yelled through the window. “Do you want to die? Do you? Fucking fairies, I’ll-”

Bill peeled out of the parking lot as fast as he could, leaving Bowers far behind them. The car was dead quiet, all three of them shocked into silence. 

“So…” Richie started, drawing out the word. “How about that, huh? Who’da guessed that he was repressed? Besides everyone, that is.”

“Is he going to kill us? Because I’m pretty sure he’s in our physics class, Richie,” Eddie said nervously. 

“Fuck, I forgot about that. Y’know what? We’ll be fine,” Richie said unconvincingly. “We’re gonna be just fine, Eds!”

“Sure we are. Bill, you can go ahead and start planning my funeral.”

“Y-you’ll be fine. Richie w-w-will keep you safe.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep you safe,” He assured. Eddie looked decidedly unconvinced. 

“Bullshit. Where’s Mike? He looks like he could beat Bowers’ ass.”

“No can do, bucko. Mikey’s a pacifist.”

“Even when his friends are about to get their asses kicked?”

“We’re not going to get our asses kicked,” Richie said, rolling his eyes at Eddie’s dramatics. “We’ll be fine, physics should be over by now anyway.”

“H-how about w-we just go h-h-home?” Bill proposed. 

“That’s an amazing idea and I say we should do it.”

“Yes please, Bill. I don’t think I can make it through the rest of the day at school,” Eddie said tiredly.

“Dude, it’s literally your second day here. How the fuck are you going to survive the next three months?” 

“Don’t even remind me,” Eddie groaned, turning in his seat to look at Richie. “I’m trying to forget that I have to do this for that long.”

“What, the homeschooled kid can’t take public school?”

“The homeschooled kid is about to kick your ass, Richie.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll shut up,” He mimed zipping his lips shut, locking them and throwing the key over his shoulder. Eddie just rolled his eyes and turned back around, but Richie could have sworn he saw the hint of a smile on his face. “Where to now, Billy Boy?”

“Wanna come over t-to my house?” 

Richie’s first instinct was to say hell yes, but at seeing the look of sheer panic and horror on Eddie’s face, he thought twice before answering. Did he want to piss Eddie off a little more or did he want to take mercy on the poor bastard? 

“It’s all good, I think I’ll just head home. Feelin’ kinda tired right now.”

He was sure that he wasn’t imagining the grateful glance Eddie shot him. The guy was going through a shitty time, and though Richie wasn’t exactly happy with him right now, he still didn’t want to be a total dick. It wasn’t like Eddie had his own home to go back to anymore, he wasn’t about to intrude on the only safe space he had. 

Bill dropped him off at home, rolling the passenger side window down to say goodbye to him. Eddie pointedly ignored him up until Richie came over to rest his elbows in the open window. 

“Eddie my love, I know you’ll miss me, but I swear we’ll see each other tomorrow,” Richie cooed, enjoying the way the tips of Eddie’s ears went pink.

“Dickwad.”

“See you two later!”

Walking to his door, he didn’t look back until he heard someone whistle sharply. Looking over, he saw Eddie staring straight at him, gaze piercing straight through him. His heart did a little flip, making him want to tear it out and beat the shit out of it. No way was he allowed to even _start_ with that shit when it came to Eddie, of all people.

“Don’t forget you have English first tomorrow, dummy,” Eddie called out. 

Smiling, Richie blew him a kiss and gave him a thumbs up. He knew that was the closest he was going to get to a goodbye from Eddie, and he was completely okay with that. No matter what, it was still progress. 

Progress was good. He could work with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what DO you call a line of rabbits hopping backwards?
> 
> A receding hare-line :^)


	9. beat it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been a week, and their morning routine was the same as always. Richie would walk in and sit down, then wordlessly fall asleep for the entirety of the class period. When the bell rang, Eddie would poke him and tell him to get up, and they’d be on their way to physics. No hellos, no good mornings, just an 8am snooze and a jab in the ribs. That just about summed up their relationship. It was always good for about five seconds before having their daily realization that they sort of hated each other.

“Hey, get up.”

“Hrmm?” 

It had been a week, and their morning routine was the same as always. Richie would walk in and sit down, then wordlessly fall asleep for the entirety of the class period. When the bell rang, Eddie would poke him and tell him to get up, and they’d be on their way to physics. No hellos, no good mornings, just an 8am snooze and a jab in the ribs. That just about summed up their relationship. It was always good for about five seconds before having their daily realization that they sort of hated each other.

Or rather, that Eddie hated Richie.

He tried not to take it personally, as Eddie seemed to hate everyone except for Bill. Problem was, he had to spend all day every day with the guy, and Richie spent most of his time wanting to smack him over the head with his cast. Being around him was infuriating, as he’d either not speak to him at all, or he’d be a snippy asshole the entire time. It depended on how his mood was that day. Richie thought that Eddie was by far the most irritating person he’d ever encountered.

In all honesty, Richie was just trying to make a friend. He and Eddie walked to the Losers’ hideout every day, side by side. When they got there, Eddie would speak to everyone normally. Or rather, everyone but him. Richie was the one exception, and he had no idea what he’d done to deserve it. If there was something, it was a mystery to him. Granted, he’d been an asshole when they’d first met, but this felt like something more. All he knew was that he wanted to make a damn friend, but was met with nothing but animosity. 

Ever since they’d had their little spat, neither of them had come anywhere near asking to work on the project again. It seemed like a topic that they just didn’t breach, something neither of them wanted to relive. They’d apologized to each other, and that was that. They’d never said they had to be on good terms after the apologies. 

Even so, Richie had been having long conversations with himself about Eddie, and had decided to try and win him over. Or at the very least, to try and be nice to him. It wasn’t working out too well, but most of the time he managed to be decent to the guy instead of unleashing his full wrath on Eddie every time he made a snarky comment. Sometimes Richie thought that it might be working, earning himself small smiles or even a laugh. Unfortunately, those moments were few and far between. Still, Richie was making an effort.

“Earth to Richie,” Waving his hand in front of Richie’s face, Eddie scowled. “You have drool on your chin.”

Wiping his chin, Richie stared blankly up at him. “What do you want?”

“The bell rang, dumbass. Time to go.”

“Right,” Grabbing his things and standing up, he started out the door. Catching up to him, Eddie offered him his copy of Twelfth Night. Waving him off, Richie threw him a good-natured smile. “Keep it. You’re the one that pays attention in class.”

“Don’t you need it for the homework?”

“Nah, I read it three times already. Got it all up here, Eds,” Richie joked, tapping his temple. It earned him a small huff of laughter, and he counted that as a win. “Time for physics, Edster.”

“My name is Eddie, fuckhead.”

“Sounds good, Eddie my love!”

“You’re fucking  _ impossible _ ,” Eddie sighed, the hint of a smile on his face. He seemed to be in a better mood than usual, more talkative than he’d been since they ditched school. It was a really nice change of pace, as Richie was usually the one talking to fill the silence.

They strolled into their physics class, Richie holding the door open for Eddie without prompting. It was just something they’d started doing, a silent agreement with a wordless thanks in Eddie’s eyes every time Richie did something for him. Moving Eddie’s chair to the back as he did every day, Richie slid into the seat next to him and took out his notebook. 

Ever since that first day Eddie showed up, Richie had started taking actual notes again in all of his classes. In fact, he finally started applying himself again. He was still depressed as hell, mind you, but something about Eddie made him want to do his best again. It was probably the simple fact that he wanted to prove he wasn’t stupid, though he knew he really didn’t have to. Nevertheless, he did it anyway, and his grades were already slowly going back up. Not by much, but they’d get there. 

The problem with physics was that he really did sometimes need help with it, and Sarah was shit at it, so his only other option was to ask Eddie. It was humiliating, but it kept him humble. To his surprise, Eddie never once made him feel stupid, even if he did sometimes call Richie a dumbass. Somehow, Richie knew he was a nickname at this point instead of an actual insult. 

Another glaring issue was the fact that Bowers happened to be in their class. Ever since they’d seen him with Hockstetter, he and Eddie could  _ feel _ his gaze burning holes in the back of their heads. They both knew he obviously didn’t want to get outed, and while Richie could sympathize, they also knew that there was a very high chance of him stopping them on their way out of class one of these days just to threaten them. 

_ Speak of the devil _ , Richie thought to himself as Bowers shouldered the door open, no backpack in sight. Richie wondered how the fuck he was passing any of his classes. 

He wasn’t really sure what had happened to start the mess, if Eddie had parked his chair the wrong way, or if Bowers was going out of his way to do it. All he knew was that one moment he was sitting in a comfortable silence, and the next Eddie let out a pained yelp, clutching what was left of his missing leg.

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” Eddie yelled, right at Bowers. Richie noted the tears in his eyes, the way his breathing was becoming uneven. He took a minute to wonder where the fuck the teacher was.

“Oh my god, Kaspbrak. I get it, you lost your leg,” Bowers sneered. “Problem is, I don’t care anymore. Get over it, I barely touched you.”

“Oh my god, Bowers. I get it, you lost your sense of humanity,” Richie mocked, surprising everyone in the dead-quiet classroom. “Problem is, I’ve never cared because you’re just a huge bitch. Leave the guy alone. Don’t you have some puppies to kick? Any candy to take away from babies?”

Shifting his gaze from Eddie to Richie, Bowers fixed him with a look that could kill. Richie very suddenly wanted the earth to swallow him up to get him out of this situation. Why the hell had he stood up for Eddie to begin with? Eyes flicking to Eddie, he found him to be shocked and sort of scared. Richie could definitely relate to that. 

“Shut up, you fucking faggot,” He seethed. “I’ll call up your old  _ friends _ and see if they want to reconnect. Reconnect their fists to your  _ face _ .”

His heart dropped to his feet. How had he known? Memories of being spit on, left to die broken and bleeding, of being comforted by his soulmate all flooded his mind. Richie sat, frozen. He’d just been outed in front of an entire class full of people he barely knew, but he could feel all of their eyes on him. Withering under their stares, he felt himself shrink into himself.

“First off, that was terrible. Please never become a supervillain, you’d just embarrass yourself,” Eddie piped up, surprising both Richie and Bowers. Cocking his head, a smug smile creeped its way onto Eddie’s face. “Second off, are you seriously calling him out for being gay? Dude, I saw you sucking face with some guy behind the Taco Bell yesterday. You have literally no room to talk.” 

Richie’s jaw dropped along with Bowers’. Eddie had really pulled out an uno reverse card on him, giving Bowers exactly what he’d dished out, but about ten times worse. People knew Richie, but not like they knew Bowers. He looked around the classroom, eyes full of fear.

“What the hell are you looking at?” Bowers barked at the class, half of the students flinching. “Can I fucking help you?”

“Mr. Bowers, I’ll need you to sit down,” Their soft-spoken teacher walked in, saving the day. She was quiet about it, but firm in a way that demanded your attention. In that moment, Richie thought he loved her more than anyone he’d ever met before.

Bowers remained towering over him and Eddie, who was tense as hell. Richie quietly put his hand on Eddie’s underneath the table. It could have just been his imagination, but he thought he felt Eddie release some of that tension at the touch. Neither of them dared show it, especially not with Bowers right there. Huffing angrily, Bowers glared at the teacher, at Richie and Eddie, then stalked out of the room, a cloud of fury following him on his way. 

The class seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and though he felt some eyes on him, Richie was just happy to have gotten out of the situation with his head still on his shoulders. He left his hand on Eddie’s, not seeing any reason to move it. It felt nice, and while he knew the touch had been going on long enough for it to be considered weird, neither of them had made a move to take their hands back. In fact, Eddie looked more relaxed than he had since Richie had met him.  _ Maybe the guy just needs some affection _ , Richie thought. 

“Hey,” Eddie whispered about halfway through the class. “You okay?”

“Well, I just got outed in front of about thirty people I barely know, but other than that I’m fine,” Richie said flatly. “Is your leg okay?”

“Yeah, my leg’s fine,” Gnawing on his lip, Eddie seemed to think his next words through very carefully. “Thank you for defending me. I’m sorry it turned out the way it did.”

“Anything for you, Eddie my love,” Richie cooed, snickering when Eddie’s face went red. “Seriously though, I’m not just going to sit back and let you get fucked over.”

“Why? I’ve been a total dick to you.”

“Well, yeah, but we’ve established that I like dick,” Richie smirked.

“You’re disgusting, Richie,” Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Eddie still couldn’t hide the smile on his face. 

When the bell rang and Richie had to take his hand back, he couldn’t help but feel a loss. He tried not to think too hard about what that meant. Eddie wouldn’t meet his eyes for a bit after that, but seemed to get over it relatively quickly. He was back to glowering at Richie for not immediately opening the door for him in no time at all. 

The day was uneventful at best. It was just one of those days that seemed to drag on with absolutely nothing to break the mediocrity. Of all the days for Eddie to be cheery, it had to be one where Richie was in a barely above average mood. He didn’t feel like talking much, not when he’d been outed first thing in the morning. Walking through the halls, he could have sworn he heard people whispering about him. That wouldn’t be anything new to him, but the whole reason he’d come to this school was to escape this. 

Eddie was surprisingly understanding, easing up on the scowls and frowns and trying on a smile for a change. It came as a shock to Richie, as he hadn’t thought that Eddie had a setting other than angry. Throughout the day, Eddie would try to banter back and forth with Richie, and though Richie didn’t have the energy to keep it going, Eddie would keep striking up conversation during moments where he’d usually be more than happy to keep quiet. 

Richie sang his praises to the heavens when the final bell rang. He was more than ready to get his ass out of there. As usual, he and Eddie were the last two in the classroom. Eddie liked it that way, so nobody would have to see him struggle to get out the door. Every day was the same story, where Eddie breezed past him and didn’t speak to him until they saw each other the next morning. Today, however, Eddie stopped outside of the door and turned to look at him.

“Hey, Richie?”

“Hm?” He was ready to get out of there, but Eddie looked like he had something weighing on his mind. Part of being friends with someone was listening to them, right?

“I was wondering if…” Trailing off, Eddie gnawed on his lip, choosing his next words carefully. “You wanna walk with me to the field? Bill always has track practice, and I know you used to go sit with Stan, so I just wanted to know if you wanted to...y’know...I dunno, walk with me?”

He knew an olive branch when he saw one, and this one couldn’t have been any clearer than if someone had clubbed him over the head with it. There had been nothing to warrant this sudden show of friendliness, but Richie sure as shit wasn’t going to question it. 

“Sure, I need to get my steps in today.”

“You literally don’t even wear a fitbit.”

Rolling his eyes, Richie grinned and flipped Eddie off, walking towards the field alongside him. They walked in silence, though he could tell Eddie had something to say. He left it and just kept walking, but Richie was not a patient man.

“Somethin’ on your mind, Eds?”

“No.” Eddie said firmly, though his face said otherwise. “Okay, maybe.”

“You gonna tell me or do I have to drag it outta you?”

“I...Look, I know I’m not a nice person,” Eddie stated, looking to Richie for confirmation. He got a shrug in response, which only seemed to confuse him. “No, really. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Well, I think you’re a nice person. Just not to me.”

Eddie went quiet, stopping in his tracks. Looking down at the ground, he sighed. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“So, can I ask why? Like, why you’re only a huge dick to me?”

“You remind me of someone I’m trying really hard to forget,” Eddie said sadly. The track wasn’t too far off, and he stared out at it longingly. “It’s not even your fault, it’s just really hard to be around you and not project my anger at him onto you.”

“Who?” Richie asked, puzzled. The sudden rush of anger only served to confuse him tenfold. “Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

“Dude, you’re literally a twig. How the hell would you kick anyone’s ass?”

“Hey!”

“I’m just telling the truth,” Eddie raised his hands in surrender, a small smile on his face. “Anyway, it’s nobody.”

“Nobody sounds pretty important if you’re basically ready to rip my throat out all the time,” Richie shrugged. “Just saying.”

Pursing his lips, Eddie studied him carefully. Looking him up and down, Richie could practically see the gears turning in his head. He didn’t think he’d been this confused in a long time, and he really hoped he’d be getting an answer to his question sometime soon. 

With a deep breath, Eddie fixed him with an intense gaze. “It’s really weird and I don’t even know if you’ll believe me.”

“Try me, Eds.”

“There was this guy, right?” Eddie said quietly. “And it was weird, because we could-”

“Fairies!” 

Both their heads whipped around to find a very angry Henry Bowers coming towards them. Whatever Eddie was saying died in his throat, the blood draining from his face. Putting himself in front of Eddie, Richie glared at Bowers, even when they were face to face.

“You made a big mistake today, Kaspbrak,” Bowers growled. Seeming to see Richie for the first time, he scoffed. “Call your guard dog off or I’ll do it myself.”

“Richie, it’s okay-” Eddie started, stopping when Richie held up a hand to quiet him. 

“The fuck it is. Go fuck your dad, dickhead.”

“You really wanna do this, fucker?” Bowers grinned wickedly, but Richie didn’t back down.

“Try me, dipshit,” Out of nowhere, Richie threw a punch, landing it square on Bowers’ nose. With Bowers doubled over in pain, Richie spat on him and laughed. “Fuck you, buddy.”

One moment he was standing, and the next he was on the floor, seeing stars and letting out a pained grunt.  _ A hit to the head will do that to you _ , he thought to himself.

“I’m not here for you, Tozier. I’m here,” Turning slowly, Bowers stopped when he was facing Eddie. “For this little fucker right here. Hey there, limpy.”

“Say that to my face, asshole.”

“You really want me to? Alright, princess,” Bowers huffed out a laugh and came closer. “You wanna beg for mercy?”

“Not a chance in hell, dickhead,” Eddie snarled, fists clenched. 

Bowers flicked open a pocket knife large enough to make both Richie and Eddie’s eyes widen in fear. “Wanna beg now?”

“I am  _ never _ gonna beg for jack shit from you.”

Coming right up to Eddie’s chair, Bowers practically straddled him and slowly brought the knife up to Eddie’s face. Blood dripped from his nose onto Eddie’s pants, likely due to getting punched in the nose by Richie. Caressing Eddie’s cheek with the blade, Bowers trailed it from his cheek, to his forehead, down to trace his lips. Eddie stared him dead in the eye, unwavering and unwilling to show an ounce of fear. 

“Scared?”

“No, but you should be.”

One moment Bowers was standing above Eddie, the next he was doubled over due to a swift punch to the balls. With an annoyed growl, Eddie grabbed Bowers by the shirt, yanking him down, and threw his head back for just a moment before smashing his head into Bowers’ forehead with everything he had. With a pained groan, Bowers dropped like a rock. Turning to Richie, Eddie rubbed his forehead, grimacing. 

“Dude, get up,” Eddie urged. “We gotta  _ go!” _

Richie definitely agreed, and promptly shot up. Ignoring the way the floor tilted for a second, he quickly realized that Eddie wouldn’t be able to keep up. “How are you gonna-”

“Push me and run,  _ now!” _ Eddie yelled.

“But you said not to touch your-”

“I don’t care what I said!”

Well, Eddie didn’t have to tell him twice. In a flash, he was gripping the handles of Eddie’s chair and sprinting as best he could while pushing him. He ran all the way back through the school, taking the sharp turns as carefully as possible to avoid throwing Eddie out of the chair. Panting, he broke through the front doors to the school and ran through the parking lot to his car.

“You don’t like driving unless it’s Bill, right?” Richie said as they came up to his truck. “We can just camp out in my car if you want to.”

“Does Bowers know what your car looks like?”

Richie cursed, gnawing on his lip as he tried to think of another solution. “He does.”

“Uh…” Hesitating, Eddie thought for a moment before setting his jaw. “Look, there’s a homicidal freak chasing us. Just help me in.”

Hefting Eddie into the passenger seat as smoothly as he could, Richie struggled to close the wheelchair more than he’d struggled with anything before. 

“Dude, calculus is easier than this shit!”

“It’s literally not that hard, oh my god.”

“Then you do it!” Richie exclaimed, picking the wheelchair up and looking pointedly at Eddie.

With an eye roll and a huff, Eddie reached out and engaged the brake, then easily slid the wheelchair closed. Holding his hands out in a  _ ta-dah _ motion, Eddie waited a moment before raising a single brow. 

“Well? Put it in the back, let’s go!”

Despite the rush, Richie put the wheelchair in the back seat as gently as he could, thanking the powers that be for having four doors instead of two. Hopping in the front seat, he turned on the car faster than ever before and peeled out of the parking lot without looking back. He didn’t need to know how close Bowers was to catching them. 

They were both much calmer when the school faded out of sight, covered by the trees and greenery on the sides of the road. The atmosphere in the car went from a tense sort of fear to pure relief. Richie drove along, mood lifting and a grin spreading across his face.

“Dude.”

“What?” Eddie asked tiredly.

“You just beat Bowers’  _ ass _ .”

“I totally did,” Smiling, Eddie took a moment to rub the rising bump on his forehead. “I can’t believe that knocked him out.”

“Well, let’s hope you don’t have a concussion.”

“I’ll be fine. Bill will probably check up on me tonight,” Eddie waved dismissively.

“So," Richie drew out his word, thinking carefully about how to word what was coming next. "What were you telling me earlier? That weird thing with some guy?”

“Oh,” Frowning, Eddie thought for a moment, turning to study Richie. “Basically, I was in love with him and he ghosted me. It was a...uh, a long distance thing, so he just dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Brutal.”

“Yeah, it kinda sucked.”

“I remind you of him?” Richie asked. Eddie just nodded sadly, not daring to look at him. “That blows, but it’d be great if you could like, not treat me terribly.”

Eddie stayed very quiet for far too long, long enough that Richie was beginning to wonder if the guy was still breathing. Glancing at him, he caught Eddie just staring at him. He said nothing, just sat and stared. Richie was about to say something before Eddie cleared his throat, effectively shutting him up.

“Alright. I’ll work on it.”

“Nothing like bonding over kicking the school bully’s ass, right?” Richie joked, mood brightening. Maybe trying to make a friend was going to pay off. At hearing Eddie’s musical laugh, he just knew it. It was definitely going to pay off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 35k words later and we're finally getting somewhere! They're both just so....sooooo dumb. So fucking dumb. It's frustrating as hell to write them sometimes.


	10. gifted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s a beautiful day out," Stan thought to himself, tossing a small handful of birdseed to the bluebirds and sparrows bouncing around in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey what's good we're going to pretend i didn't have an eight month depressive episode and move right on to a stenbrough chapter because i love stenbrough i would die for them!!
> 
> im sorry for being gone for so long i cant guarantee that ill update again soon but i got a rush of inspo today and wanted to share this with you guys :( please be patient with me!
> 
> see the end notes for a pretty minor CW but just in case for my fellow trans folks

_ It’s a beautiful day out,  _ Stan thought to himself, tossing a small handful of birdseed to the bluebirds and sparrows bouncing around in front of him. He’d been feeding the birds after school for so long that he was able to recognize which were which, and had gone so far as to give them names. They came and went as they pleased, but he had quite a few regulars that he loved as if they were his own. Glancing up at the track for a moment, he grinned when he saw Bill jogging towards him. 

It was no secret that he stayed here to wait for Bill, though it was possible Bill thought it was just to feed the birds. Stan hoped that wasn’t the case, but it was a definite possibility. Eddie had told him just how oblivious Bill could be, but there was no way he could be  _ this _ oblivious, right? 

“How was practice?” Stan asked as Bill tiptoed around the mass of birds at his feet, trying not to disturb them. He was a pro at it by now, the birds not even acknowledging his existence. The fact that he was that gentle with them made Stan happier than Bill probably knew. It showed that he cared. 

“It was g-good. How are the birds?” Sitting down next to him, Bill held his hand out for some seeds. Pouring some out into his hand, Stan watched as he tossed them out and smiled when the birds dove for them. 

“Hungry, as usual. Here, I have an extra bag,” Handing it to Bill, his heart warmed at the excitement on his face. “Hey, do you know where Eddie is?”

Bill’s expression went from contentment to concern, brows knitting together and frowning. “I th-thought he was with you.”

“No, he didn’t show up today,” As if on cue, his phone buzzed with a new text. Pulling his phone out, Stan unlocked it and checked his notifications.

_ Richie: tell bill that eddie’s safe, i just dropped him off at home _

_ Richie: think u can get a ride from him? sry i ditched u _

“Richie says he dropped Eddie off at your house.”

“What the fuck? H-he won’t ride w-w-with anybody but m-me!” Bill said, visibly upset. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Maybe it was an emergency?” 

Opening his mouth to say something else, Bill snapped it shut immediately afterwards, his own phone beeping from his bag. Digging through it, he held his phone in a death grip, unlocking it and reading the text at the speed of light. Genuine anger creeped onto his face, and he huffed like a bull before shoving his phone in his back pocket. 

“It was B-B-B-” Bill stuttered, stuck on his word.

“Hey, fuckers!” 

Both he and Bill whipped their heads around to see Bowers lumbering over, looking like an absolute wreck. Blood from what looked like a broken nose dripped from his chin, his face marred by a quickly forming bruise on his eye and forehead. Someone had gotten the best of him, and Stan suddenly wanted to know who it was, just so that he could stay the fuck away from them. 

“It was him,” Bill whispered, standing up in a defensive stance.

“What was him? Sit down, you’re just going to make him angrier!”

“Don’t s-say anything about R-R-Richie or Eddie.”

“Pay attention to me when I’m talking to you, fuckers,” Bowers kicked at the birds, trying his hardest to crush one under his feet. Stan breathed a sigh of relief when all of them flew safely away, their sense of self preservation apparently much stronger than Bill’s. The smaller boy stood tall and proud, hands balled into fists. If not for that, Stan was sure that they would be shaking like a leaf. 

“Henry,” Nodding in greeting, Stan tried his hardest to keep cool, though icy cold fear was slowly seeping into his veins. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? What’s  _ up? _ ” He asked, pissed as hell. “What’s up is that I need to know where Tozier and Kaspbrak are,  _ now. _ ”

“Dunno. I haven’t heard from them since lunch.”

“Bullshit. I know Tozier gives you a ride home.”

“I checked the parking lot and his car isn’t there, so I’m guessing he ditched me,” Stan said shortly. “Why? Did something happen?”

“No!” Bowers barked, making both him and Bill jump. “I just need to know where the hell they are, and I don’t need you dumbasses to ask any questions about it.”

“We can d-do what we w-w-w-want,” Bill tripped over his words, the nerves only amplifying his stutter. Eyes going wide, Stan shook his head quietly, hoping that Bill would get the message and apologize. 

“What was that, B-B-Billy? Are you talking or beatboxing?”

“Fuck y-you,” Fixing Bowers with a steely gaze, Bill raised his head high and refused to back down. 

“I’ll beat your ass, you little bitch, I swear to-”

“Okay!” Clapping his hands together, Stan put on a cheery smile and hoped to god they wouldn’t die. Standing up and grabbing their things, he gripped Bill’s wrist and started pulling him down the bleachers and around Bowers. “We haven’t seen Richie or Eddie, sorry about that. Also, we have to go now! See you around!”

Pulling Bill in close, Stan hissed into his ear. “Don’t look back.”

Thankfully, Bill was smart enough to listen. They both made their way across the field, through the school, all the way to the parking lot before they dared to slow down. Looking over their shoulders, they were both relieved to find that Bowers hadn’t followed them. 

“What the hell was that, Bill?” Stan exclaimed, now that he was at least somewhat sure that he wasn’t staring death in the eye. 

“I j-j-just don’t like him,” Bill mumbled, staring down at his feet. “H-he tried to hurt your b-b-birds.”

“He-” Stopping to take a deep breath, Stan took a moment to calm himself. He was equal parts angry and flustered. Angry because Bill had put himself at risk, but his heart was still overflowing at the thought of Bill defending his birds. “Bill, you’re more important to me than my birds.”

“R-really?” 

“Duh? You really thought-”

“I didn’t think I m-mattered th-th-that much t-to you,” Bill said quietly. Stan noticed he was stuttering the way he did when he was nervous and wondered why he was feeling that way.

“Why else would I stay out here to wait for you every day?” He asked, carefully taking Bill’s hands in his own. “You mean so much to me, Bill.”

“Y-you mean it?”

“I swear, Bill,” Squeezing Bill’s hands gently, Stan smiled down at him and brought a hand up to run his fingers through Bill’s hair. “I really do.”

“Okay. I believe you,” Smiling, Bill pulled his hands away to brush his hair out of his face bashfully. “O-oh, I have a gift f-for you. For your b-b-birthday.”

“What? My birthday isn’t for another three months, remember?”

“Oh, well, it’s an early birthday g-gift,” Bill said lightly, rooting around in his bag and pulling out a shoddily wrapped present. It was a wreck, but Stan could tell that he’d spent a lot of time and effort on it. Holding it out, Bill looked anywhere but at Stan. “H-here. I hope y-you l-l-like it.”

Raising a questioning brow, Stan took it and pulled apart the wrapping, making sure to save it for later. He liked the pattern.

“Hurry up!” Stan had to swat Bill’s hands away to keep him from opening the gift himself. “You t-take forever!”

“I like the paper, is that a crime?”

“Yes!”

“Well, too bad!” Stan huffed, opening the paper to reveal a carefully folded piece of nude fabric. “What’s this?”

“J-just open it,” Gnawing on his cuticles, a nervous habit Stan couldn’t seem to help him break, Bill stared holes into Stan’s head. “Please?”

Shrugging, Stan unfolded it to find what looked like a nude sports bra, a little piece of paper that had been tucked into it floating to the floor. Leaning down to pick it up, Stan held it carefully, trying to keep tears from falling onto Bill’s careful handwriting.

_ next goal is top surgery :) _

__ “Bill…” Stan whispered, holding the binder tightly to his heart. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted y-you t-t-to have it,” Bill said decisively. Knowing damn well that this was money Bill had been saving for a rainy day, Stan cried harder, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “D-don’t cry, Stan. It’s a g-good thing!”

“I know, I just-” Taking hiccuping breaths, Stan tried and failed to calm himself down. He’d been complaining to Bill that he didn’t have the money for a binder and that his parents were supportive, but not to that extent. They accepted him, but still seemed to be somewhat in denial. “I didn’t think you remembered. It’s the exact one I showed you, too.”

“I h-have a good memory?” 

“I love you so much, Bill. You have no idea how much this means to me,” Stan babbled, knowing full well he was exposing far more than he’d ever meant to. It was fair, the world had just confirmed that Bill was perfect, and Stan stood thinking that they could be perfect together. “Thank you.”

“Your dysphoria has b-been bad lately, I j-just hate seeing you l-like that.”

“I’m not going to be able to stop crying if you don’t stop saying stuff like that,” He cried out, only crying harder when Bill reached out with gentle hands to wipe the tears from Stan’s eyes. “Thank you so much, thank you.”

“It-it’s no problem, I just wanted to m-make sure y-you feel better.”

“This is going to help, I know it will. Can I go put it on? I should go put it on!” He exclaimed, practically vibrating in place, excitement radiating off of him. “I’ll be right back!”

It took a little bit of trial and error, a lot of frustration and getting stuck, but he finally did manage to get it on. It was difficult, but it was so much better than binding using his old sports bras. Stan took a moment to look in the mirror, basking in the euphoria of finally having a flat chest. 

Running out, he couldn’t help himself from grinning ear to ear as his chest was blessedly still. He didn’t have to worry about his breasts bouncing as he ran, and he didn’t have to see that cursed bump on his chest every time he looked in the mirror. Stanley was flying across the quad to see Bill, and he suddenly understood why Bill liked track as much as he did. 

Panting, he stopped in front of Bill and felt his heart pounding for the other boy. His lungs burned, and he suddenly no longer understood why Bill liked track. Pushing thoughts of his now-aching body away, Stan beamed at Bill and twirled around in a circle. 

“Well?” Stan gestured at his chest. “What do you think?”

“Flatter than even m-my chest!” Bill crowed, pumping his fist in the air. “I’m s-s-so glad I g-got the right s-size.”

“It’s perfect, Bill.”

Bill’s face went very serious, and Stan felt himself mirror the expression. Taking a step forward, Stan saw Bill hold his breath as he leaned in. Panicking, Stan grabbed his face and kissed his cheek lightly. When he pulled away, Bill’s face was bright red, and he could tell that his own was probably about the same color. 

“Thank you,” Stan whispered, offering up a small smile. “This means so much to me.”

“I know,” Bill grinned lopsidedly and held out his hand. “L-let’s go home.”

Stan happily took his hand and followed him out to the parking lot. He thought that he might follow this boy to the ends of the earth if asked to. 

_ It’s a beautiful day out,  _ Stan thought to himself. Getting into Bill’s car, he thought that he’d never seen a more beautiful day, nor had he seen a more beautiful boy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: very brief mentions of dysphoria
> 
> bowers doesnt use transphobic language because it's my fictional world and i make the rules because my sensitive trans ass hears enough transphobic shit and my comfort trans chara doesn't deserve that!!!! i'll fight yall!!!!!!


	11. fooled around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What? You can’t take me? Bill, you know this is important.”
> 
> Richie was lounging around while he and Eddie worked on their project in merciful silence. Or rather, what had been silence before Bill had called. He tried to stay quiet and stay out of it, but Eddie looked so distressed that he couldn’t help but pipe up like an idiot. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn look another update? incredible. 
> 
> I'm finally getting off of the medication that makes me super drowsy and have started listening to music again, so maybe I can finally get around to finishing this godforsaken fic (i'm kidding this fic is my baby i love it)
> 
> anyway enjoy these fuckin gays

“What? You can’t take me? Bill, you know this is important.”

Richie was lounging around while he and Eddie worked on their project in merciful silence. Or rather, what had been silence before Bill had called. He tried to stay quiet and stay out of it, but Eddie looked so distressed that he couldn’t help but pipe up like an idiot. 

“What’s going on, Eds?” He whispered, withering under the furious glare that was thrown his way. Richie mimed zipping his lips shut and raised his hands in surrender.

“Whatever, Bill. I’ll talk to you later.” Hanging up the phone, Eddie sighed miserably and pinched the bridge of his nose. Looking up, Richie noticed his teeth were gritted tight enough that he was surprised they didn’t break. “Rich, I need...a favor.”

“Wh- a favor?” Richie echoed dumbly. “From me?”

“I can always ask your sister if you’re going to be a dick about it.”

“No, no, I was just surprised. What’s up?”

“I need you to drive me to a doctor’s appointment. Bill was supposed to take me but he and Stan are doing something in the city and he’s too far away to pick me up in time,” Eddie slumped his shoulders forward, pressing his palms into his eyes. “Please? I really need to go, I’m picking up my prosthetic. I can’t miss it, and I really don’t want to reschedule.”

“You want  _ me _ to drive?” Richie asked slowly, not because he was making fun of Eddie, but because he could barely believe what he was hearing. “I mean, I’ll do it, I just want to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable or whatever.”

“I don’t really have a choice, right? I want my prosthetic,” Eddie stated. “I want to be able to walk.”

They’d been on much better terms ever since they’d kicked Bowers’ ass, as in, they hadn’t been at each other’s throats anymore. There had definitely been a much friendlier environment for the past week or so, at least, when they weren’t avoiding Bowers at school. Other than that, everything was just peachy keen. Richie had offered to give Eddie a ride once more the day after the incident, but was violently turned down. The response to his offer had been something along the lines of Eddie would rather lose his other leg than ride him. Well, Richie may or may not have worded it a bit sexually, but he still got turned down. Either way, this was a little bit surprising. 

“Alright, I’m down. Where’s it at?”

“It’s kind of in the city?” Eddie said sheepishly. “I can pay for gas.”

“That’s only like, an hour away. I’ve gotcha, Eds!” Richie’s phone dinged once, an alarm for something important he’d forgotten. “Oh shit, I have to get my cast off anyway.”

“Wait, seriously?” Eddie furrowed his brow, dubious. “So do I, or I can’t use crutches.”

“See? Perfect timing. It’s no problem!” Before Eddie could even begin to protest, Richie started walking out the door. “You coming?”

Opening his mouth to say something, Eddie immediately shut it, cutting himself off before he could even start. He began wheeling over, but Richie wasn’t stupid. Richie saw the way he winced when he pushed the wheels forward, his arms probably exhausted. 

“Hey, can I see if I can make you do a wheelie?” Richie offered up a goofy grin, the deadpan look on Eddie’s face only serving to make him laugh. “Let me help you out, man.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Eds, you’re exhausted. Just let me help you,” He saw the conflicting emotions on Eddie’s face. Richie knew that he didn’t want to be seen as a charity case, but he hoped that the pain in Eddie’s arm would convince him to set his pride aside for once. “Please?”

It was the please that did it, and Richie knew it. He wasn’t a “please” kind of person, but he would do it if only to help this random kid who’d been nothing but mean to him. He would do it for Eddie, who’d grown on him more than he’d initially realized. 

Crossing his arms and looking away, Eddie let out a heavy breath. “Fine, but that’s not my name.”

“Sounds good to me, Eds!” Richie said brightly, dashing over to wheel Eddie out the door and to the car. Once there, he opened the car door for Eddie and gestured to the seat. “Alright, get in.”

With a blank stare, Eddie looked from Richie to the car, then back to Richie and back to the seat once more. Narrowing his eyes, Eddie glared at him like he wanted him dead. “Rich, I have one leg.” 

“That’s fine, I’ll support your right side and you can use your good leg to get in the car. You’re gonna start walking with the prosthetic anyway, might as well get your leg warmed up before you even get there.”

“You’re serious? You’re not going to help me into the car?” Eddie stared at him in disbelief.

“Not unless you really can’t do it,” Shrugging, Richie looped his arm under Eddie’s and helped him up, ignoring his indignant squawk. “Unless you’re too chicken.”

“ _ Excuse _ me?” Eddie hissed, not waiting for a response before awkwardly climbing into Richie’s truck, avoiding leaning on Richie as much as possible. Once seated, he clicked his seatbelt in place and glared down at Richie. “How’s that for chicken, asshole?”

“I take it back, Eddie Kaspbrak is the king of getting into cars!” Richie crowed before folding up Eddie’s chair and carefully placing it in the bed of his truck. “Alright, let’s go free our arms!”

“And leg!” Eddie said cheerfully. It nearly made Richie do a double take, as it sounded like genuine excitement. He’d stared for a moment too long, catching Eddie’s eye, and maybe he was kind of cute. In that moment, Richie thought that maybe he could kiss Eddie one day. Eddie furrowed his brow at him. “What the fuck are you staring at? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, I was just thinking you’re cute when you smile,” Richie blurted out, immediately kicking himself. “And when you blush, like right now.”

“Shut the fuck up and drive, Richie.” Mumbling, Eddie looked away to hide the rosy blush dusting his cheeks. 

“What? I’m just saying you’re cute! Cute cute cute!” Richie tried to ignore the pang of hurt that went through him. He knew he used to say that to Spaghetti, but sometimes, Eddie just reminded him so much of his lost love that he couldn’t help but use things like that. 

“Don’t say that please,” Eddie whispered, staring straight down at his lap. “He used to say that to me.”

“Oh. Sorry, Eds.”

“I’m not cute, either.”

Starting the car, Richie peeled out of the driveway. They were already late, and he hoped the doctors wouldn’t mind. “Yeah you are, you just don’t see it.”

“Dude, I’m a banged up amputee, what the fuck is cute about that?” 

“A lot.” Shrugging, he reached over to ruffle Eddie’s hair. “Just trust me, dude. I have good taste in men.”

“Who the fuck else would your taste in men be?”

“Uh, have you  _ seen _ Idris Elba? Chadwick Boseman? Chris Hemsworth? I mean,  _ hello? _ ”

Pausing to think for a second, Eddie tilted his head and made a small noise of approval. “Alright, I can get behind that.”

“Are you kidding? I want them to get behind  _ me _ !” 

“That’s disgusting, Richie,” Reaching down, Eddie plugged the aux cord into his phone and started scrolling through his music. “Hey, have you ever heard this song?”

_ I must have been through about a million girls _

_ I'd love 'em then I'd leave 'em alone _

_ I didn't care how much they cried, no sir _

_ Their tears left me cold as a stone _

Richie’s heart dropped to his feet, eyes filling with tears. Of course he knew this song. He’d sent this to Spaghetti all that time ago, when they’d made playlists for each other. It had become their song, and he’d listened to it so many times that he knew it like the back of his hand. 

“It’s my favorite song,” Richie croaked. “How do you know it?”

“Oh, uh,” Stuttering away, Eddie took a deep breath to compose himself. “Well, he sent it to me. It was our song. Y’know, cus he fooled around and fell in love with me.”

“Oh.” That was weird. That was...really weird. Richie so desperately wanted to ask his name, but he knew Eddie would clam up the moment he said anything. “Thank you for sharing it, Eds. It’s a damn good song.”

“How do you know it?”

“Eh, my parents fucking love it,” He lied, as if he hadn’t spent hours creating the perfect playlist for the love of his life. He lied as if this wasn’t the song he shared with a dead boy. “I’ve heard it a million times.”

“Makes sense, it is kinda old.”

“So, how about we go get you that prosthetic?” Richie changed the subject, trying to get rid of whatever atmosphere had been created just then. 

“Sounds good to me!”

They drove to the doctor’s office in silence, Elvin Bishop crooning sweet words in the background. 

_ I fooled around and fell in love _

_ I fooled around and fell in love, since I met you baby _

_ I fooled around and fell in love _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at these funky little gays what will they do next???? who knows because i know it's not me


	12. Crutches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been a month since Eddie had gotten his prosthetic, and he was still learning how to properly use it. He still had to use his forearm crutches, which were incredibly useful at times. Whenever Richie was annoying him, he could just smack him with them and it would shut him up pretty quickly. Actually, sometimes it would only cause him to talk more, but it was mostly effective. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two updates in a row? what a miracle! just kidding it's because i thrive off of comments and feel the need to post as often as possible in order to get approval from strangers on the internet :')
> 
> in all seriousness, i'd like to take a moment to thank all of my readers for sticking around even though i suck at updating and for being so supportive. your comments have made me cry on more than one occasion and i read through them every time i need encouragement. so yeah, thank you guys.

It had been a month since Eddie had gotten his prosthetic, and he was still learning how to properly use it. He still had to use his forearm crutches, which were incredibly useful at times. Whenever Richie was annoying him, he could just smack him with them and it would shut him up pretty quickly. Actually, sometimes it would only cause him to talk more, but it was mostly effective. 

As for Richie, he was surprisingly helpful. Like,  _ really  _ helpful. He’d become incredibly protective of Eddie, and they’d become a lot closer than Eddie had ever thought they would get. A lot closer. They were essentially joined at the hip, going everywhere together and doing everything with each other. In fact, they’d gotten so close that Bill had gotten jealous on more than one occasion. 

“Y-y-you’re sure you don’t like him b-better than m-me?” Bill would ask quietly, and it would never fail to break Eddie’s heart. 

“Never, Big Bill. You’re always going to be my favorite.”

“Not more than Chee.”

“...Yeah, even more than him,” Eddie would say. It hurt, but it was true. Bill would always hold the number one place in his heart, and that would never change. 

When it came to school, he was doing well. Like,  _ really _ well. The only change that had happened? He still couldn’t bring himself to write with his dominant hand. On one hand, it would be so much easier for him to do so. On the other, it reminded him so much of Chee that he just couldn’t. He’d noticed Richie doing the exact same thing. When he asked about it, he’d just get a shrug and a lopsided smile that made his heart do a weird little dance. 

That was another thing. Eddie was dangerously close to developing...a crush. On Richie. It was one of those things that kept him up at night, staring at his ceiling and wondering how he could betray Chee like this. He’d beat himself up over it until he remembered that Chee was the one who’d left him, and then he’d immediately switch to thinking about how yeah, he might not mind it if Richie kissed him or held his hand. It scared the hell out of him, but it was yet another terrifying truth that had hit him lately. 

One other truth was that prom was coming up, and very quickly at that. Way too quickly. Eddie  _ still _ didn’t have a date, and he actually didn’t even think he’d be going. He had always thought that he’d rather die than go, but now that he was in public school, it opened up the possibility. His mom never would have let him go, much less with another boy, but now that she wasn’t here? Eddie might actually be able to attend, and he kinda sorta  _ really _ wanted to. He kinda sorta  _ really _ wanted Richie to ask him to go, too. 

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he found himself back in physics. Next to him was a very bored Richie, who was trying and failing to draw with his left hand instead of paying attention to the class he so desperately needed to graduate. Poking him in the ribs, Eddie glared at him and pointed at the board that was chock full of notes that should be on the page where a shoddily drawn flower was. 

“Pay attention, dumbass,” He whispered angrily.

“I already know this!”

“No you don’t!”

“Do too!”

“Do  _ not!” _

“Mr. Tozier, Mr. Kaspbrak,” The teacher called out to them, quickly grabbing both of their attention. “I’ve told you not to talk during class a million times. Up to the principal’s office with you two.”

“But-”

“No buts, Mr. Kaspbrak. Grab your things and go.”

Huffing, Eddie gathered his stuff together and threw it in his bag, which Richie quickly picked up for him. It had become an unspoken rule: Eddie was busy with his crutches, so Richie held his backpack for him. It was funny watching him hold one backpack on each shoulder, but Eddie would never tell him the extent of his amusement. 

“I can’t believe you got us in trouble  _ again _ ,” Eddie whined in the hallway.

“Hey, it’s the first time you’ve ever been sent to go see Moran. It’s like, my eightieth time.”

In the halls, they passed poster after poster screaming at them that prom was in a mere two months, so close yet so far away. 

“Eds, I gotta ask you something,” Richie said, nerves obvious in his voice. “Would you like, want to, maybe, possibly?”

“What? Spit it out, you’re freaking me out!”

“Come to prom with me,” Richie blurted out, face beet red. “You’re really cool and really cute and I think you’re really cool. Wait, I already said that, sorry, I’m just a little-”

“Yeah, I’ll go to prom with you,” Eddie breathed. 

They both stood there in silence, just staring at each other. He was sure they looked absolutely disgusting, making eyes at each other and slowly leaning in. Or rather, Richie was leaning in and Eddie was standing there, shell shocked. Eddie vaguely registered the noise of a door closing somewhere behind them in the hallway.

“Hey there, faggots.”

Eddie’s blood went cold, recognizing that voice all too well. Both he and Richie turned slowly, ending up standing face to face with Bowers. A cruel smile spread across his face at seeing the fear in their eyes, and Eddie told himself to get his shit together. Putting on his classic scowl, Eddie scoffed at him.

“What, are you talking to a mirror?” Eddie sneered. “I can’t believe you’re literally so repressed that you have to take it out on us.”

“I’m not gay,” Bowers growled, taking a step towards him. Eddie stood his ground, earning him a panicked look from Richie.

“Sure, and I’m not an amputee. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“I said,” In a flash, he had his hand around Eddie’s throat, slamming him back into the lockers and lifting him up in the air. He tried not to panic, but it was hard when his airway was being cut off by a furious hand. Letting out a choked wheeze, he clawed at Bowers’ hand. “I’m  _ not _ gay.”

“Let go of him!”

Suddenly, he was dropped back to the floor, falling into a messy heap of crutches, his prosthetic at an awkward angle. Looking up, he found Richie on Bowers’ back, yanking him back only to let go and throw a punch, landing it right on Bowers’ jaw. Richie shoved him, not allowing him a moment to recuperate, but it only seemed to make Bowers angrier. Turning his head back to look at Richie, he grabbed one of his fists mid-punch and shoved him back onto the ground. Landing on his ass with an unceremonious  _ oof _ , Richie stared up in horror as the older boy took slow steps towards him.

“That,” Bowers spat. “Was a mistake.”

Eddie had no words to describe the look on Bowers’ face. It was that of a livid animal, one that was about to go in for the kill, and his gaze was fixed directly on Richie. For some reason, Richie looked just as angry as Bowers did, pushing himself back up. Halfway up, Bowers stopped in front of him and grabbed his arm with a bruising grip that made Richie grimace, almost as if he was going to help him up. A grin spread across Bowers’ face, striking fear into Eddie’s heart. 

Examining Richie’s arm, he huffed out a laugh before bringing Richie’s forearm down on his knee and snapping it like a twig. Crying out, Richie snatched his arm back and cradled it carefully. Bowers simply knocked Richie back on the floor, where he curled up in pain, arm bent in a way arms should not bend.

“That’ll teach you fairies to fuck with me,” Turning, Bowers began sauntering away, not a care in the world.

At the sight of Richie on the floor, holding back tears and looking a little green in the gills, Eddie saw red. Bloody, furious red. Nobody was allowed to touch Richie, not one single fucking person. Huffing like a bull, Eddie took a moment to adjust his prosthetic and pushed himself up with one of his crutches,. He thanked the powers that be for allowing it to still be intact. 

“Hey, fuckface!” Eddie yelled hoarsely, watching as Bowers froze and slowly turned back to him. “What, are you gonna go back and cry to your boyfriend? You can’t even knock out an amputee!”

Bowers walked quickly towards him, fists clenched. He got close enough to raise his fist, ready to beat the hell out of Eddie, only to get a crutch to the stomach. Wheezing, Bowers doubled over and tried to catch his breath, all while Eddie used his crutch to knock him to the floor. Slamming the bottom of his crutch down on Bowers’ stomach once more and earning himself a pained  _ oomph,  _ Eddie kicked him in the side with his good leg while he was at it. Letting out a battle cry, he threw his crutches aside and straddled Bowers, pinning him to the floor. All he felt was blind fury, every bit of anger he’d been storing up all this time bubbling to the surface and fueling the fire in his chest. 

He didn’t know when it had happened, but he found his fists landing on what was now the bloody and bruised face of Henry Bowers. Reaching a shaky hand down, Bowers reached for his pocket, and in a flash had something clutched in his hand. Eddie realized what it was too late, only noticing when there was a burst of pain in his cheek and blood flooding his mouth.  _ Of course _ , he thought to himself, pushing his thumbs into Bowers’ eyes.  _ He had his fucking knife with him _ . 

Somewhere in the back of his head, he heard a commotion and felt himself being pulled off of Bowers, but he kept swinging, not bothering to do anything about the knife in his face. Bowers stood up, wobbly but still ready to fight. Before he could swing at Eddie, two teachers grabbed him from behind, pulling him the opposite direction. Putting his fists down, Eddie tried standing on his two legs but stumbled forward.

“I need my crutches,” Eddie mumbled around the knife in his mouth, turning to look at the teacher holding him up. Mr. Fazio looked at him through his thick glasses with something like fear. “Can you help me?”

“Of course, boy-o. They’re right over there, let’s go get ‘em for you,” Mr. Fazio said, more gently than he’d ever heard before. Eddie took a moment to wonder if he had kids. He seemed like he would be a good dad. Mr. Fazio leaned down to pick up Eddie’s crutches, handing them to him with a soft smile on his face. His eyes went to Eddie’s cheek and the smile quickly turned into a worried frown. “Son, you’ve got something right...there.”

He was right. Eddie most definitely had something in his cheek, and he reached up to pull it out. Hand closing around the knife handle, he braced himself and yanked, letting out a pained yelp when it was out. Dropping the knife to the floor, his hand went up to his bleeding cheek. His mouth was flooding with the coppery taste of blood, and he spat some of it on the floor, but there was too much to get rid of all at once. 

A thought occurred to him, panic surging through him. Whirling around, he pushed through the crowd, mercilessly crushing feet beneath his crutches if need be. Finally, he found what he was looking for.

_ Richie _

On the floor, Richie was smiling and waving people off as if his arm wasn’t broken to the point where it was nearly poking through the skin. It jutted out, stretching the skin around the broken part. Surging forward, Eddie carefully set himself up to kneel beside him, careful fingers wrapping around the bruised and broken mess of an arm. 

“That was badass,” Richie caught his attention, pulling Eddie out of his head. He was looking at Eddie with the softest eyes he’d ever seen on him. Eddie took a moment to wonder why his heart was pounding a little harder. It quickly morphed into a horrified stare when he caught sight of the bloody mess on Eddie’s face. “Jesus christ dude, your cheek!”

“It’s no big deal,” He said, wiping the blood from his mouth with his shirt. “Hey, I’m going to set the bone, okay?”

“You’re going to what? No the hell you’re not!”

“On three.”

“No!” Richie tried to wrench his arm away from Eddie, yelping when he moved it. Eddie made sure not to let go, his grip strong but not bruising.

“One,” Eddie winced at the crack of the bone as it popped back into place, cradling Richie’s face with his hands when he yelled a string of curses foul enough to make a sailor cringe. “There you are.”

“What the  _ hell _ happened to two and three?” Richie asked, voice shrill.

Shrugging, Eddie opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by his choking on some of the blood making its way down his throat. It tasted coppery and burned, and he spat on the floor to try and get rid of as much as possible. It didn’t work. 

“Eddie!” 

Turning, Eddie caught sight of Bill elbowing his way through the crowd, panicked. 

“Big Bill, how’s things?” Richie said as if his arm wasn’t still broken. 

“Y-y-your cheek,” Bill went pale at the sight of all the blood on Eddie. “What the f-f-f-f-”

“Fuck?” Richie offered up.

“What happened?” 

“Bowers happened,” Eddie grumbled, rolling his eyes at the sight of Mrs. Moran making her way towards them. “Hey Rich, incoming.”

“Boys, would you mind telling me what the  _ hell _ happened here?!” She shrieked. 

“Bowers- Uh, Henry came up to us in the hall on our way to class and started taunting us. So, I responded and I guess I said the wrong thing because he started beating the shit out of us,” Eddie said, spitting out some blood to show how badly he’d gotten fucked up. “He choked me, broke Richie’s arm, and then when I went to defend Richie he stabbed me in the cheek.”

“He...stabbed you?” She asked incredulously, furrowing her brow when Eddie nodded. “With a knife?”

“Yes ma’am,” He said sarcastically. “This is a knife wound.”

“We need to get you to a hospital, Mr. Kistgrap.”

“My name is Kaspbrak, it’s fucking Kaspbrak,” Eddie snapped, reveling in the surprised look she gave him. “Richie needs a hospital more than I do, his arm is broken.”

“Alright, has anyone called paramedics?”

“I c-can d-drive them,” Bill offered.

“No, I can’t allow that.”

“Alright ma’am, we’ll just wait for you here,” Eddie said innocently, putting on an absolutely angelic stare. 

“Wait here, boys,” Mrs. Moran said, walking away to call paramedics. 

“Help me up, Bill,” Eddie hissed the moment she was out of sight. Bill pulled him up, and his wrist  _ screamed _ , wrenching a pained noise from his lungs. Fuck, had he broken something? He couldn’t lean his right arm on his crutch without pain lancing through his wrist, and he cursed under his breath. He’d just gotten his damn cast off, and now he might have to get another one. “Rich, come here.”

Bill pulled Richie to his feet with his good arm, worriedly checking his friend head to toe. All three of them glanced up at Mrs. Moran, making sure she was still facing away from them. Creeping into the crowd, Eddie limped along as best he could with his wrist hurting the way it was. Richie seemed to notice, giving him a weird look.

“You okay?”

“My wrist hurts,” Eddie grimaced as he put pressure on it once more. “I think I broke it.”

“Oh, what a fucking pair we are. Come here,” Richie took his right crutch and handed it to Bill, supporting Eddie with his left arm. “Let’s go, Eds.”

“Richie!” A voice called out from behind them. Richie’s head turned so quickly Eddie was convinced he’d snap his neck, but he simply grinned. “What the hell, Richie?”

“Stan the Man!” Richie exclaimed. “What do you mean? I have  _ no  _ idea what you’re talking about.”

“I hate you,” Stan deadpanned. Looking to Eddie, he paled. “That’s...a lot of blood.”

“Y-yeah, we’re trying t-t-to go to the hospital.”

“Are you coming or not?” Eddie asked. “Because I’m pretty sure Moran’s figured out we’re gone now.”

“I’m going with you,” Stan said firmly. “Where are you parked, Bill?”

“Uh, right in the front.” 

“Let’s  _ go,”  _ Eddie hissed.

“You heard the man,” Richie declared. “Let’s go!”

With that, they were sneaking out of the school and to the hospital.

__________

Eddie ended up in a cast.  _ Again. _

“I cannot fucking  _ believe _ we  _ both _ broke the same goddamn arm.  _ Again,” _ Eddie said annoyedly, patiently letting Richie put stickers around the stitches on his cheek. The perks of still being underage meant that they still got stickers at the doctor’s office if they requested it. 

“I think it’s adorable. We’re hashtag twinning!”

“Never say that again or I’ll kill you, I’ll literally kill you.”

Richie laughed, giving him a shove. They both sat in his beaten down truck, smiling and laughing and joking around. Eddie had gotten a plain white cast, while Richie had opted for the neon pink. The first thing they had done was exchange cast signatures, despite them both bickering over what color sharpie to use. They had decided on black, at Eddie’s adamant request. 

“Hey, Eds?” Richie asked quietly, looking over at him sheepishly. “Can I kiss you?”

Stunned, Eddie sat there for a second with the gears in his head turning, working themselves into overdrive as they always did. Slowly, he nodded. 

Smiling, Richie leaned in. He was nervous, so nervous that he closed his eyes tightly and waited for it. It felt like forever, but he felt Richie press his lips to the stitches on Eddie’s cheek, a soft and sweet little thing.

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie asked, opening his eyes and furrowing his brow. 

“A kiss! I don’t want your first kiss to be in my shitty car after I got my arm broken and you got stabbed in the face!”

“Wh- how the fuck would you know whether or not it’s my first kiss?!” His voice was high, and he could already feel his cheeks warming under Richie’s gaze.

“Is it?”

“...Mind your own business, Rich.”

“It totally is!” Richie crowed, reaching over and mussing up Eddie’s hair. “See, I’m not about to do that to you. I’m going to make your first kiss great, just watch.”

“Shut up,” Eddie mumbled, staring straight down at Richie’s cast clad hand reaching over for his free one. “What are you doing?”

“Holding your hand, dumbass. Gimme.”

Eddie gave his hand up with no complaints, smiling quietly to himself and fighting the blush making its way onto his cheeks. Looking over, he found Richie staring at him fondly, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

“Still wanna go to prom with me, Eds?”

“...Yeah. I do.”

With a happy little noise, Richie started the car and pulled out of the hospital parking lot, Eddie thought that maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe moving on from Chee would be easier than he thought. With a smile, he huffed out a laugh and hummed along to whatever shitty song was playing on the radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i hope this doesn't feel rushed
> 
> we're finally fucking getting somewhere bitches let's GO (yes the slow burn was getting too slow even for me so you get a little treat, just a little one)
> 
> no i don't know how richie's car got to the hospital and no i will not explain myself because i simply do not know how to
> 
> don't know when i'll update next but hopefully it's soon! thank you again for being so patient with me, i love all of you so much <3 if you guys ever want to actually be my friend literally shoot me a message on instagram or tumblr and i will gladly talk to you every hour of every day, i'm always looking for new friends and I already consider you all my friends as it is! (insta is archangelica_angelica and tumblr is eddiesdeaddie) 
> 
> take care i love you all

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! Please comment feedback, it helps keep me motivated and helps me know what you guys do and don't like!
> 
> Follow me on instagram at archangelica_angelica or on tumblr at eddiesdeaddie if you want to get in touch or just to watch me shitpost!


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